


Some Things Never Change

by alyxpoe



Series: Holmes of the Future [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alien Sex, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Future, Crime, Drama, F/M, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mystery, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Sex, Time Travel, Violence, You Have Been Warned, alien life, men kissing, other planets, space travel, starships, thank you Edgar A Poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 63,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyxpoe/pseuds/alyxpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All those light years away and the Admiral could still get under his skin. He flipped over to his back again and noted as the time projector flipped numbers across the wall as a reminder. He sat up on the mattress and started to button up his shirt. His fingers stopped moving almost before they started. Why the hell would it even matter anyway? No one in their right mind would ever consent to being his partner, and that included the Burskins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while, but I've been a little nervous about posting it. It is not a crossover, but I am a Sci-Fi fan. I have a large portion of it completed, and I'd love love love some input!
> 
> Edited: Aug 5 2013: Seriously considering a sequel that is going to incorporate another wonderful SCI FI movie that is for now a one-of-a-kind. Thoughts?

“ **C** aptain, there is a call coming through.” Maria informed him as she looked down at the e-book she carried. Maria stopped and studied the tall man for a moment, noting his laid-back posture and the fact that his chair was tipped back onto two legs. Just for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the sight of her commanding officer’s long legs clad in tight black trousers and knee-high black boots. His sapphire blue uniform shirt was only buttoned up about half way, giving a peek of a well-muscled chest. He wore no mark of rank whatsoever. She knew from experience that he preferred to carry his insignia pinned to a card in his pocket; sort of a throwback to the twenty-first century. No one, however, could hide the tattoos they all wore on their shoulder blades.

As always, it appeared to her that he had been simply daydreaming, with his arms crossed with hands behind his head, an e-cig held in-between the long fingers on one of them. She turned away quickly as he took one last drag then stubbed out the long electronic cigarette in a little black container on his desk. He let the old-fashioned wooden chair slam back onto all fours before replacing his booted feet with both hands on the top of the desk and standing up.

“Thank you, Maria.” He nods sharply in her general direction and steps across the threshold of the door behind her as it slides open with a puff of air. The long, dimly-lit corridor is flanked by multiple doors identical to the one that leads to his office. Maria was already out of sight. He strides down the long corridor, sturdy boot heels making hollow clicks on the shiny tiles.

As always, the men and women in the control room stand and snap to attention when he enters. As the door slides shut behind him he casually speaks an “at ease” and his crew immediately returns to their tasks. The captain steps across the room towards one of the kiosks that line the walls. A rather short, broad figure with hands flying over the flat desk top (what appears to be nothing at first glance is actually a flat keyboard built into the table-top) grunts an almost-incoherent greeting and immediately presses one of the hidden buttons. Just as quickly, a screen begins sliding up from deep inside the desk. The screen flickers to life and a red-haired man appears on it; a well-dressed man in a high-ranking military uniform. His hunter green shirt is buttoned clear up his chest and throat, making him look quite stuffy; even through the screen and a distance of several-thousand light years. For an instant the captain considers just walking away and not even wasting his time with this drivel.

“Admiral.” This particular captain holds nothing for the formalities of military rank, especially with this particular person. He barely glances at the screen before pulling a shorter e-cig out of his trouser pocket and touching the tip with his finger. It glows red and the face on the screen glares at him, though he does move his mouth into less of sneer. For an instant there's a look akin to nostalgia, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. No one else notices it, not that they would anyway.

“Really, Captain? Have you no sense of propriety?” The Admiral asks in a half-snarling, half-smiling voice.

“You called me, remember, _Admiral_?” The captain is already quite irritated with this conversation. He starts to turn away from the screen, but the admiral finally begins offering up information like he was giving a Yuletide gift. An unspoken _I beg your pardon_ hangs in the air between screen and man.

“Captain, I called you because we think someone is attempting to sabotage the Time Gate.” The captain stops walking but does not turn back to the screen. On what planetoid was this even _his_ problem? He partially hears the rest of the statement before turning back to the screen. 

“Wait.” The Admiral falls silent as his brown eyes track the captain’s movement across the floor of his ship. The Captain holds a hand in the air, the universal sign for _quiet_. No one moves. The tall man seems to be thinking over the predicament somewhere deep in his mind. He drops his hand and glares at the com-screen, silently willing it to catch fire. “Admiral, you know I work best _alone_. I do not work with a _partner._ ” He spits the words with venom over his shoulder towards the man on the screen.

“Not this time, _Captain_.” The Admiral’s face and voice are already beginning to dim as the screen powers down. The captain hears his next words clearly, however. “This time even _you_ need help. Your partner will arrive at fifteen hundred hours.” With that, the screen goes black and the captain’s face goes red. Crew members scattered around the room looked quickly at each other and then away. They are all very loyal to their captain and had seen him through some rough scrapes, but not a single soul would dare speak up now. They all know from experience that _this_ has nothing to do with them. The captain, for all of his attitude, truly believes that what has been heard here today will not be repeated. He trusts them that much.

“I’ll be in my quarters.” He huffs. His shiny boots catch the ceiling lights as he storms across the room. The e-cig between his fingers had gone out without his noticing. He slams it back into his pocket as the door to the lift slides open.  He moves into the lift and slouches against the back wall, one leg bent at the knee, foot flat against the metal wall. A surly teenager in a military uniform. The machine purrs upward through the decks of the ship and towards his quarters. It is just after twelve-hundred hours now. He would not sleep, but at least he could come up with twenty five or fifty ways to convince this _partner_ that he worked much better alone, regardless of what the damn Admiral thinks.

o-o-o-o-o-o

14:00

The captain is stretched fully out on his bunk, arms and legs flung as far across the mattress as they will go. He has alternately stared out the windows (nothing but _space, space,_ and more _space_ ) and the ceiling (dull grey) but none of his ideas were panning out. In the five years since he had made Captain, he had worked with several _crews_ but never a _partner_. In fact, the mere idea was just…repugnant. Ridiculous. He had his brain; that was enough of a _partner_ for him. He was not interested in inter-personal relationships and he did treat his crew well enough. They respected him but did not fear him. They worked well with each other and even with him on those occasions when he called upon them.

Maria Manosa had been with him almost from the beginning. They had started out as equals but then he rose up the ranks much faster than one his age should have. Typically, one started out as a soldier and then spent his or her lifetime working their way up the ladder. Not him, though. He was twenty-five when he gained Captain. He quirked his mouth into a smirk and thought to himself that sometimes having _certain connections_ worked in his favor rather than against it as so often was the case. That thought annoyed him just a little. Some days he wanted praise for his own _abilities_ , not for his _connections_. He needs something else. The captain closes his eyes. 

Ah, the case. Anyone with half a brain could see that the Interplanetary Alliance was in over their heads. From the day they had deemed the Time Gate safe for use there had been problems surrounding it. First there was the issue of the Travelers coming through and being so disoriented that they died _en masse_. It was horrific and, in his opinion at least, could have been avoided by training the security crews just a bit more. Secondly there were issues surrounding whether the Time Gate actually worked the way it was programmed to: several of the original pioneers had wound up way off (way out of time) from their intended targets. Three of them had never been found. One of them had been found but several pieces of him had been left throughout several time periods. He was now in a semi-secure Psyche hospital and probably would remain there until he passed.

 Another problem had been simply security surrounding the Gate itself. It was such a new science that it really should not have been opened up for just anyone to try, like some sort of old-fashioned amusement-park ride. Of course, cold hard cash would always talk louder than common sense. People naturally assumed that it was harmless since it had been deemed safe by the I.A. Techs, but in truth, the thing was unstable and incredibly powerful. It was more like a lift than a Gate. “Gate” implied that one could simply open and close it at will, as well as have the ability to choose a target destination. Nothing was farther from the truth.

The captain runs his fingers through his wavy hair, causing some of the curls to come loose from their carefully manipulated coif. He is so tired of constantly having to worry about formalities. He is ready to take his ship out and do some exploring, just to blow off steam more than anything else. The  _Neo-Tethys_ was supposed to have been a science vessel but the closest he had come to exploring anything had been learning about his newly-chosen and assigned crew. He would tolerate nothing less than beings that were at least half-way intelligent and could think on their own when necessary.

For a moment, the captain rubbed one hand on the front of his tight trousers. He considered perhaps pulling one off but even that would not hold his interest long enough and he would have to change. He sighed and dropped his hand back to his side. No sense in making too big of an impression on someone who hopefully wouldn’t stay around too long.

Boring. It was all getting dull. And boring. The captain huffs and rolls over onto his belly. He smashes his face against the silver pillows and sighs dramatically, an action that serves to further liberate the curls on his head. Maybe that’s why the Admiral had thrown this tidbit at him, to give him something else to think about besides boredom for a while.

Ha. That's doubtful. He probably just cannot handle the situation. Why bother getting your hands dirty when someone else can do all the work?

 All those light years away and the Admiral still gets under his skin. He flips over to his back again and makes a mental note when the time projector flips numbers across the wall.. He sits up on the mattress and startsto button up his shirt. His fingers stop moving almost before they start. Why the hell would it even matter anyway? No one in their right mind would ever consent to being his _partner_ , not one-on-one, no way...and that included the Burskins.

He would show the Admiral and then he could be out chasing the stars and not investigating foolish projects designed by idiots for the sole purpose of fleecing the interplanetary public. He runs his hands through his hair one more time, further forcing it into chaos. He does, however, pull his boots back on. No sense in seeming to be a complete barbarian. Maybe he could just intimidate this person and be done with it, then everything could get back to _normal_.


	2. Who is that man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain meets his new assistant.

The captain was not a patient man. Maria thought as she listened at his door just before the clock warned twenty minutes out from the Partner’s arrival. Maria was already considering the word capitalized, though she had no idea what purpose it served. His impatience would never allow him to train nor learn from a partner. She could hear him tossing and turning on his bunk through the absolute silence of the room. She had only been in there once and only occasionally had a desire to return. A relationship between them would never work, however. What the captain craved she could not give him.

Sure, she gave him her body and it was good and hot, and really really _mind blowing_. She would never do it with him again. The captain was a force all his own on a good day, but aroused? He was like a pillar of flame. He would let you get so close to him and then completely close off. That was not the kind of relationship she yearned for; she needed more than just an occasional piece of ass. Even such a nice-looking one as her captain had been blessed with.

He had taken her to the brink so many times that she was almost blind, deaf and dumb by the time the act had finally completed. Amazingly, he had been a patient and considerate lover in some ways, but demanding and selfish in others, which seemed more his style. Maria felt instinctively that she would never share anything like that with another person, ever, but the pleasure was in no way worth the cost of losing herself completely. He would have been her drug, her utopia. She would have given up everything in the second that the best orgasm in her life had crashed over her (twice.) Once the flames cooled, however, there was nothing left but the taste of ashes in her mouth and dried sweat on her back.

She left him that night and never looked back. They never spoke of it and she allowed any romantic feelings she had for him die quietly. Sure, there were times when she was weak, just like earlier today. Hell, he is gorgeous. Just because you don’t want to eat the forbidden fruit does not mean you cannot admire it when it is right there in your face!

She had wondered in quiet moments about what _might_ have been, but she understood very well that his needs, his desires; his _wants_ would have completely consumed her. She was much too driven for that, too focused on her own career. She wanted to be with someone who had room in their heart for her, but cared enough to let her live her own life. The gorgeous captain? Well, that was not him.

She knew that he had never taken another lover, whether human or any other, since herself. They had known each other for many years and she had always admired him, but always from a distance. Much like now. Maria heard movement beyond the door and moved silently down the corridor. No use in being caught eves-dropping on the captain. She did enjoy her job, after all.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John’s first impression of the control room is one of utter confusion. From his reading, he expected rows of kiosks and com-screens. He expected military neatness and precision. What greeted him, however, were kiosk-lined walls, complete with com-screens that apparently slid down into the kiosks for safe-keeping. The place is a hive of activity. Male and female beings (as well as a few humans) tap non-existent keyboards or speak into well-hidden earpieces. The room is filled to the brim with a din of noise and purpose. A rather exotic woman enters from the lift on the other side carrying an e-book in her hand. She crosses the room to speak with a rather squat looking alien of a species John cannot identify. He thinks the name starts with a B, but cannot remember exactly at this moment. 

After a moment, the woman nods her head and the alien turns back to his workstation. John watches her walk away and admires the view, though he does not allow his thoughts to show on his face. No one has even noticed him. Not a single being in this room has even turned their head nor gave any indication that they heard the lift doors swish open. Not one. John stands and simply observes the comings and goings of the crew. He appears relaxed, leaning against the wall next to the lift, his old duffel bag at his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply waits to be noticed.

Within minutes, the chime for the primary lift sounds, alerting the crew that its coming down from the upper decks. John is amazed at the way the entire room simply _changes_. At once, the sounds of the crew talking, working and some even laughing with each other simply vanish. Somehow they even manage to silence fingers tapping on invisible keys.

To say that John was astonished would not even begin to cover it.

The doors to the lift part and the captain walks into the room, his bearing regal and head up high. The crew snaps to attention but he brings them back to normal with the wave of a hand. The din in room goes back to normal, albeit at half-volume from before. The captain turns his head as he scans the room, seeming to take in every crew member. John assumes that they are used to such scrutiny, as it does not stop anything that they are doing. Then the captain turns his gaze towards John.

John’s first reaction to the captain is to click his heels and salute, but it's quickly overshadowed by his second reaction, which is to fall on his knees at the feet of this Adonis and worship him. However, this is also quickly banished by his third reaction which is one of complete surprise. The captain is tall and lean, and other than his regulation boots and uniform, has nothing military about his bearing. His blue shirt is unbuttoned almost half-way down and not tucked into his tight black trousers. It's slightly rumpled and he wears neither belt nor any insignia. If John did not know that he was stepping aboard an Interplanetary Alliance vessel, nothing about the leader of the vessel would have given it away. The tall man’s raven hair is an Einsteinian curly, crazy mess. It looks as if it had been neatly styled at one point but then left to go completely astray as if the captain had no care in the universe. John really wanted to touch it. He calmly fought down the urge.

Even with all of that, though, John would have been alright. The other three seconds he had remaining of the ten seconds it took him to size up the man in front of him were used up when the Captain’s eyes fall on his own. They are sea green glass marbles piercing through a suit of armor John had not even been aware that he was wearing. Somehow, John shakes it all off and dioesn't quite click his heels together, but he does elect to snap a clean salute at the regal man.

“Captain Holmes, sir.” The strength in John’s voice is a cover for the way he is really feeling. Somehow, he gets the impression that the Captain knew this. It's a bit unnerving.

Captain Holmes accepts the salute with grace but then waves his hand in the air towards John just as he had done his crew less than a minute before. Time seemed to be moving at a more normal rate now and John could actually breathe. He is suddenly re-aware of the crew and the low buzz of noise around them. It's as if he and the captain were in their own little bubble for a short time.

“The Admiral has assigned you to this vessel, _I.A.N. Neo-Tethys_ , as an assistant to me. You have been ordered to report to me for the purpose of investigating sabotage as pertaining to the Time Gate. Yes?” The captain’s words are clipped and pour from his lips very fast. As he speaks, his eyes never leave John's face.

“Aye, sir. But _partner_ , not assistant.” John replies, not backing down from the staring contest or eye-fuck or whatever it happens to be. He is not intimidated in the least. He had stared down bigger and badder than some egotistical captain in his thirty-six years, including winged aliens the size of Victorian houses.

Captain Holmes narrows his eyes at the shorter man. He takes in the olive-drab cotton T-shirt, old leather jacket and black denim trousers at a glance. John’s eyes are blue and his hair had been flaxen when he was younger but was now a mix of darker brown, blonde and grey hairs. The only new thing he is wearing are I.A. regulation black boots, and since they are worn under his trousers, the good captain can only hypothesize on their length. That leads his thoughts elsewhere and he scans this new person’s body quickly, returning his gaze again to John’s face. This guy has guts, at least. Not one single member of his crew would dare to correct his word usage in that manner. Not if they wanted to keep their jobs on _his_ ship that is.

The captain stares down at his new _partner_ for a few more seconds before dismissing him with a wave of a long-fingered hand. “You may go. You are to report to my office at eighteen hundred for a briefing. That is all.”

He turns his back on John and makes to step into the lift. The door swishes open but before it can close, John has picked up his duffel and tosses it into the lift, narrowly missing the captain’s shiny toes. The captain is three parts impressed but one part annoyed by the obvious power play. He angrily pushes the button on the wall and the door slides open to admit a rather aggravatingly happy-looking John. Captain Holmes glares at him until the lift stops on the ninth deck and John gets out, duffel on his shoulder. He turns back toward the captain to utter some sort of thanks, but the lift is already on its way up to the next deck.

John turnes away from the lift deck and goes to search for his room. He really can't help that the word “Asshole” slips from his muttering lips as he counts doors.

o-o-o-o-o-o

What the captain and John missed as they struggled for power was the absolute silence of the crew and the control room. As soon as their captain had started to speak to John, the din in the room grew quieter. Naturally, they all wanted to know about this man who had been appointed by the Admiral to their ship. Most unusual that he was human.

When John quietly but respectfully corrected the captain, the room went as still and as quiet as a morgue. By the time John tossed his duffel bag into the lift, every being in the room was staring in John’s direction with their mouths gaping; some of them even had tentacles or tongues hanging out.

When the lift doors finally closed and the machine started on its upward path, only four words were spoken by anyone in the crew. It was Jared, the youngest helmsman who spoke for everyone as he pulled his eyes away from the lift and back to the rest of the crew:

“Who is that man?”


	3. Exchanges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was not intentionally late to Captain Holmes’ briefing.

John was not intentionally late to Captain Holmes’ briefing. He knew where the office was located, thanks to the convenient map that had been spread across his bunk. It had been literally all the way across, from the headboard to the footboard. The canteen and the public exercise rooms were labeled on it in red, as well as the emergency pods and the captain’s office. At this point, he was slightly annoyed to be thinking that he would be _sleeping_ under that map, since it had been painstakingly drawn across the white comforter. He would only complain if he woke with ink stains about his person.

That was fine. John drops the duffel to the floor and pulls out a few things such as his bathroom kit and e-book. He quickly snaps a picture of the comforter-cum-map and saves it to the little computer. His e-book was small enough to fit into a pocket, so at least if he got turned around on this massive vessel he would not look like a complete idiot asking for directions from the crew. He figures that he had already lost enough face with them as it was.

He lays the e-book on the little stand next to the bed and turnes towards the shower. John quickly sheds his clothes and turns the water on in the stall. He pulls the sliding door closed and it beeps at him as it seals itself, preventing any water from leaking onto the floor. As he bathes, he watches with avid interest as words plays across the translucent doors. It's a calendar, complete with reminders of what times the meals are served in the canteen and when the public rooms would be open, as well as a reminder for the briefing the captain had mentioned a little bit ago.

Mentioned? John thinks as he considers that Captain Holmes seems as if he only has two types of speech: bitchy and bossy. Hell, that guy would probably order his own flesh and blood around. John mulls over the idea that at least there would most likely never be a mutiny on this ship, as the captain seems to know everything about him with the flick of an eyelid. He can only imagine how the rest of the crew feels since he had never felt so exposed before, especially on the first meeting with someone. He leans his head under the pelting water and thinks about how good it is to finally scrub off two days worth of dirt and grime.

Fresh and clean John gets out of the shower. As soon as he turns off the tap, the doors beep again and he pushes them open. He steps out onto a heated floor. He rubs the towel over his hair and he gives himself a long look in the mirror over the little round sink. For a second he notes the fine lines that would one day be crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. He rolls his shoulders and stops  himself from considering how ridiculous this whole escapade really is. He has to admit that he had accepted the job out of boredom and a desire to get away from his sister’s problems. His job at home was becoming duller by the day, so he felt that it was time for something different.

John dries himself and slings the towel over the shower doors then walks into his sleeping quarters completely in the buff. It feels so wonderful to be free of the constraints of clothing for a little while that he almost regrets allowing the higher-ups to issue him a uniform. He pulls the roll of clothing from his duffel bag and sets it on the bed. He slowly unrolls the red shirt and tight black trousers. John marvels at the feel of the softly woven fabric in his hands. He's never felt anything like it before. It's soft as silk, but by looking at the other crew members on the ship, did not seem to drape quite like that material. Nor did it have the feel of cotton, it was actually much lighter and cooler to the touch. He places a hand underneath the trousers and pushes his palm upward. The material seems to tighten as he pushes against it and then it gives, forming a perfect glove around his hand.

This is going to be interesting.

He pulls the shirt over his shoulders and works the buttons quickly. He leaves the topmost few undone as he's never enjoyed the tightness of a full collar. With the half-buttoned shirt he had seen on the captain not so long ago, he figures that he can also surpass a little of the regulations himself. He snaps the cuffs together over his wrists and smooths the shirt down with both hands.  John pulls on the tight trousers and feels the material adjust itself to his legs. Just once he's got to see what it's doing for him. He moves up in front of the full-length mirror that hangs on the backside of the bathroom door.

John does a double-take. The black material is clinging tightly to his sculpted calf muscles and thighs. He looks down at his groin worriedly but is pleased to see that at least in the crotch the material is loose and comfortable. He carefully tucks in the long shirttails and places the black belt through the belt loops. There's no belt buckle per se, but a strange little silver indentation that he finally figures out to touch with his finger tips. The belt immediately tightens itself and then loosens back up—the perfect fit around his hips. He comically does a little wiggle in the mirror and smirks at his own face. It may not be too hard to pick up a friend for the night around here in this getup. He needs to blend in. No use sticking out like a sore thumb and having to fence too many questions.

So far so good, he thinks and turns toward the bathroom to pick up his boots. He has them in hand when a funny little alarm goes off to signify someone is at his door. He's stumped for a moment, but then the door slides open and the exotic-looking woman he had noticed earlier enters the room. She stands right in front of the door, barely leaving room for it to slide closed behind her. She holds an e-book in her hands, though hers is much larger by comparison. John figures that it holds probably three times as much memory capacity as his own.

“Hello John Watson, I am Maria.” She doesn't hold out a hand to shake so John stands his ground. He nods at her, which seems to be acceptable. She speaks clearly but her words are heavily accented. John cannot place it. Maria looks down at her e-book and then launches into what his schedule is going to be for the next hour but John interrupts her to say he needs to finish getting dressed and that he is perfectly capable of finding his way around the open decks just fine, thank you. She gives him a curt nod and vanishes back the way she came.

John heaves a sigh of relief and sits down on his bunk to pull on his boots. They are not as high as the pair that the captain was wearing, stopping just over his calf. John had put them on first thing this morning, despite his travel-worn clothing and self. He was still grateful for doing so after the one kilometer hike from the front doors to the loading dock of the space station.

Finally finished dressing, John shaves his face, brushes his teeth and attempts to comb his hair; eventually giving it up as a lost cause. He is going to the on-ship barber tomorrow anyway, there's really no point in fighting it now.

The clock-projector flashes the time on the walls of his room. He has ten minutes to get to the captain’s office. That's plenty of time to head to the canteen and grab some type of beverage, then. It had literally been hours since the last time he had anything to eat or drink.

Only it turns out that it really wasn’t. Even with the map, John seriously underestimates the sheer _size_ of the _Neo-Tethys_. He has only to go down two decks to get to the canteen, but there's a line and he has to wait five minutes to get a cup of coffee. It takes another two minutes to find what's passing for cream on a spaceship these days. He has slapped a lid from one of the bins on the cup without stirring and heads straight back to the lift. He misses all the side-looks and flat-out stares from the other personnel. He's not even aware that he's the reason it took so long to get a cup of coffee in the first place.

So it is that he's exactly three minutes late to the captain’s office. He is sure that he is going to look like an idiot not only in front of this jerk, but also members of his crew. _Wonderful first day on the job_ , _Johnny boy,_ he chides inwardly. He sips at the bitter brew and pulls a face just as the door slides open. Expecting a crowd of some sort, John walks in carefully and looks around. There is absolutely no one except the captain. The lights have been turned down a bit, actually a blessing to John’s eyes after being awake and on the move for the past seventeen hours.

Captain Holmes sits on an old-fashioned wooden chair behind an old-fashioned wooden desk. The desk strongly reminds John of something that would have been in the quarters of the captains in the old sea-faring novels he had read as a boy. He scans about quickly and then takes a seat on the desk, after a brief consideration of where the other chairs are located about the room. Of course, this would have been awkward had the captain been sitting in the chair in the correct manner, with his bum in the seat. He is not, however, but perches on the chair like a bird with a messy tuft on its head, completely balanced on the top of it. It's so absurd that John wants to laugh. _Captain Holmes, great sea-hawk, staring down his prey_. The captain narrows his eyes as if he can _hear_ John’s thoughts. John turns away from the close scrutiny to look about the room.

With his nerves, however, he has _not_ seen the way that the Captain stared him down as he walked into the room. 

Beyond the captain’s desk and _perch_ is a large oval-shaped table with about ten modern chairs placed around it. The table is cleared off and the chairs are empty. There are two large bookcases on the opposite wall, covered with a mix of objects and tomes. John looks about, deciding right then and there he is not going to allow the other man to intimidate him. The captain could be as ridiculous as he wants but that means nothing at all to John. If nothing else, he is here to do a job and when that's over he can leave and never look back.

Captain Holmes, for all of his posturing and airs is actually quite mesmerized by John. He does a double-take when the man steps in through the office door. He half expects him to show up in the same clothes from earlier and has to admit that he's quite struck by the figure John cuts in the uniform. Of course, he would admit that to no one other than himself. So he stares and waits on John to tell him it's all too much, that he had made a mistake, and thank you for the offer, but no thanks. Good, this will all be over soon and he can go lie on his bunk and forget about the whole thing.

Much to Holmes’ chagrin, however, John plants himself on the edge of the desk and proceeds to look around the room with what appears to be avid interest. It's almost as if he had been there his entire life and had only stepped out for (here the captain sniffs loudly and wrinkles his nose) canteen coffee.

With the captain’s sniff, John turns his attention back to the tall man perched on the back of the antique chair. He says absolutely nothing but continues to sip from the cup in his hand. It is pretty much a stand-off between them at this point. John is quietly unassuming, someone who could easily be missed in a crowd. Well, seemingly by anyone other than the captain, he reminds himself. For a few moments, both men consider each other across the wide desk.

“Mr. Watson, I called you here to discuss the case….” The captain’s words trail off as John interrupts him with a smirk.

“Not Mr. Watson, sir. Just John if you will.” John continues to smile in the captain’s face.

“Fine, John, then.” The captain returns the smile with a smirk of his own. “You are going to _assist me_ at the Time Gate. We should not have to go through the device at this point…”

John interrupts the captain again by clearing his throat. Captain Holmes narrows his eyes until they are slits. He's not angry yet, but he is getting there.

“Captain, I was assured that I was to be your _partner_.” John is no longer smiling, but his face is still relaxed.

Captain Holmes fights back the words that are attempting to choke him. Just who does _John_ think he is, really? After a second, he recomposes himself.

“ _Partner_ , then, John. Are you quite done interrupting me?” The captain’s eyes flash with the tiniest hint of ire. Nothing on John’s face changes at all. He nods his consent.

“John, I need someone intelligent enough to _see_. I need someone who can truly assist me in catching the saboteurs. At the present time, I am considering that there are three of them, at least one that is human, and they have been at this for quite some time. The Admiral only caught wind of what was happening when his security team found the _third_ body.” At this the captain visibly scoffs, wrinkling his nose and forehead. “Apparently they did not connect the first two, from vastly different time periods mind you, to the Time Gate. All three bodies were simply dead. Not a marking on them. There is nothing medically astray with them, at least nothing more than _normal_. Can you handle _that_?”

“I can do those things and more, Captain. May I?” John stands up from the desk without waiting for an answer and casually moves about the room, peering here and there at the tiny collection of mementos scattered about. He grabs a blue ball off of one of the bookshelves and tosses it into the air. It hoveres for a moment and then speeds towards the ceiling.

Captain Holmes watches with interest as John tosses the ball towards the ceiling. Suddenly the ball explodes into a million tiny pieces of shiny metal. He never saw John’s hands move, but then quickly realizes that a small-caliber weapon had come out and the projectile from its muzzle passed through the sere-ball, cutting the object precisely in half. He is loathe to admit it, but he is genuinely impressed. He drops himself into his chair and strides over to the big conference table. He sits down and gestures with one hand for John to do the same. They will spend the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation and planning for the next step. Some sort of agreement has been built up between the two men very rapidly. It's gone from the awkwardness of first meeting someone to deciding which dog has the worst bite, to an acceptance and the thought on both sides that _this might just work_. 

At one point during their discussion, the short bark of an alarm sounds and the captain reaches over to press a button on the table. Out of the center a small com-screen appears. John rests back in his chair, arms across his chest and one leg crossed over the other. He does sit up and take notice, though, when the person on the screen turns out to be the Admiral. Not currently being in the military, John isn’t sure of the civilian protocol when facing a high-ranking officer, so he merely shuts his mouth and waits to be spoken to.

It seems to be a good call, for as soon as the screen pops on, the captain’s mood goes sour. He almost seems to be refusing to look at the screen and mutters “Admiral” under his breath. John is fascinated at the insubordination and secretly wonders how the captain gets away with it.

“Good evening, John Watson.” John nods at the screen. The ginger-haired man in the hunter-green shirt nods back. John can almost hear the brass on his chest jingle. He almost completely fails  in controlling an eye roll so he looks away for a moment. 

The Admiral turns his face slightly toward Captain Holmes as if it would make a difference. The captain is still not looking at the screen.

“Captain and John, tomorrow you will meet me here on Earth to travel to the planet where the Time Gate currently stands. After that time, you will be on your own. Do you have a plan?”

Captain Holmes mutters something under his breath that John doesn't quite catch. It could have been “yes,” “oh yes,” “not yet” or “ _piss off_.” Later, it would not take him as long to figure it out.

The Admiral on the screen nods towards the captain and then to John. John studies the man’s face carefully, searching for answers to the captain’s strange behavior.

“Ah,” says the man on the screen. “You have not yet told him?”

Captain Holmes finally puts his full attention to the Admiral. He is scowling. “What would be the point? Do I need someone else thinking I am only here because of _your_ hard work? I’m not an idiot, you know, I can make it on my own.”

Once again, John is mystified. This was perhaps the strangest interchange between officers he's ever had chance to witness. Naturally, he has no idea that it's about to get even stranger.

“John Watson, please allow me introduce myself. My name is Admiral Holmes, I am in charge of the security of the I.A. Time Gate and all details surrounding the device.” John’s eyes widen and he looks from the captain to the screen and back again. The captain is sullenly glaring at the Admiral. For an instant, John considers that the good-looking captain must be off the market. The he finally honors John with speech.

“No, he’s not my husband. It’s worse than that, we are actually related by blood: he’s my _brother_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back in and did some editing. I hope it flows better now. Thank you all!


	4. Fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anything you require for your comfort tonight, John Watson?”
> 
> John thought about it for a moment. “You know, I would like a bit of a kip and maybe some company of the pleasurable kind?”

John really has absolutely _nothing_ he can say to that statement. He watches the com-screen switch itself off and slide soundlessly back into the table. He just sits still and takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

He knows that he has been handpicked from several applicants for a job that was neatly labeled on the PDF flyer as an “ _adventure_ _of a life time. Work with a master detective to solve a high-profile case. Military background preferred, but not exclusionary_.” He had been clued into the case at the first meeting with Captain Holmes in the control room. The case involves something to do with the infamous Time Gate; the Time Gate which has been alternately dismissed as myth by the government or seen as the end of the world by the conspiracy theorists. John has accepted that the device is real.

He accepts that persons unknown have attempted to sabotage the Time Gate, but no one had specified exactly _how_ that knowledge was obtained, or exactly what type of sabotage they were discussing here. Whatever type it was, though, it involved people getting killed.

Captain Holmes was again scrutinizing John as John seemed lost in thought. He considers that the other man is wondering what he had truly signed up for. He figures he may as well cut his losses now and be done with it.

“John, if it’s all too much, you can leave. I really don’t need help. I’ve not ever needed help with any of my cases or research before and I would totally understand if….”

The captain is cut off mid-sentence when John raises his chin and just _looks_ at him. The captain thinks that this was not someone who would give their word lightly. They just watch each other, back to the stand-off from earlier.

“Captain, I have _nothing else_ at this moment. I have been a medic, a surgeon and a soldier. I am pretty handy with a weapon, even small caliber. I have fought aliens who came to Earth to take and destroy and I have held the hands of a pregnant woman giving birth. I have been injured myself, and as a child, I watched as family and friends died around me when the Travelers came through the fabled Time Gate and infected our world with a new plague.

I signed up for this little “adventure” because there is nothing else out there for me. I retired from the military after three deployments, one on Earth and two elsewhere. I have been an information runner and believe you me, Captain Holmes; your case here is the last thing I have any desire to walk away from at this point in my life.” John sits forward in his chair and rests his hands on the table in front of him. He has now passed the ball into the captain’s court.

The captain nods to the other man and says nothing. Deep in the back of his mind, in a tiny room that he rarely visits, he feels the glimmer of hope.

“Good then. I’m off. It has been a very long couple of days and I would like to get some rest before we start out tomorrow.” John gives a small salute in the Captain’s direction. Just as he steps in front of the door, the Captain calls out to him. John turns toward the other man.

“Anything you require for your comfort tonight, John Watson?”

John thinks about it for a moment. “You know, I would like a bit of a kip and maybe some company of the pleasurable kind?”

“Yes.” Captain Holmes states. “I will get Maria right on it. See you tomorrow.”

John knew when he was dismissed. He leaves the office for the lifts to head back to his own room.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John found that his room had been tidied in his absence. He looked about, nodding when he saw that nothing was missing. His duffel bag had been emptied into the wardrobe and dresser. His toothbrush and toothpaste had been hung, apparently from nothing, in the bathroom next to the mirror. A fresh pale yellow terry robe was folded on the sink. He expertly shed his boots and shirt, pulling the robe around himself. It was soft and warm, almost as if it had just come from the laundry. He was tired from his journey, but the tightness in his muscles was primarily due to the man-up contest that was happening between himself and the captain. John wondered if that would ever end.

He sits down in an armchair and picks a menu off of the little table next to it. He takes his e-book out of his trouser pocket and enters his order, sending it via messaging to the number printed on the menu. He stretches out in the chair and tries to work some of the tension out of his legs. He closes his eyes but opens them soon after when the buzzer for the door sounds.

A light purple skinned being wearing a black apron glides through the room on what appears to be tentacles, holding a covered silver tray in more tentacles that are currently serving as arms. John reaches for the tray, nodding to the Odal as it moves silently back out of his room. He returns to the armchair and lays the cover from the tray on the side table. The simple sandwich is neatly prepared, with plenty of relish, just the way he likes it. John tucks in and makes quick work of his meal. He has forgotten to order anything to drink, though just as he is removing his e-book from his pocket again, the door alarm goes off for the second time.

Maria sweeps into John’s room without waiting for him to answer. She crosses over to him and holds out what appears to be another menu. He reads the white text on the satiny black paper quickly, eyes widening in surprise. There sure were plenty of things on the list to tempt him, but he holds himself in check, calling for a consort who can give him a massage.

Maria is already walking away when John calls after her to include a bottle of wine. She nods and the door swishes closed.

The third time the door alarm sounds, John is pleasantly surprised to see a tall female Telom. Her long pinkish-blonde hair flows down to her waist. It is held in place with gold ribbons. She wears a sheer white dress that contrasts well with her pale rose skin. The eyes that she turns on John are gold-colored and extremely erotic.

She sizes him up and gestures towards the bed. People of the Telom race are known to have very few spoken words, so she communicates very well with her hands. She gestures at John’s robe and he removes it. She gestures at his trousers and he shakes his head slightly. She slowly closes her eyes and reopens them, nodding gently. The Telom holds out her hand, palm upward, and then flips it over. John understands to lie down on the bed on his belly.

The tall, graceful alien sits down on John’s rear end. He is pleasantly surprised at the light weight of the female. Her fine-boned hands make short work of the tight muscles in his back, lightly skimming and then kneading them strongly. He sighs and feels a warm relaxation seep through his body. The Telom gently moves herself from John’s back and asks him to roll over with her hands. He complies.

Very slowly, she massages John’s chest. Her hands pass gently over the scar on his ribcage and move around another one on his shoulder. Just like everyone else, he thought to himself. They all refuse to touch it. His thoughts are drowned in an instant when her hands drift to the waistband of his trousers. She deftly clicks the little silver button on his belt and pulls it away from him, the leather cracking in the otherwise quiet room; she drops it in the floor next to the bed. She turns back to him, bending herself at the waist and dragging her hair down his chest.

John shudders at the satiny touch and closes his eyes. He feels her tug on his trousers and then his member is engulfed in wet heat. There is no doubt this Telom is a pro. Somehow he keeps himself in check and does not overly choke the female. When he opens his eyes again she is running her hands down the front of her dress and gazing at him, those gold eyes filled with lust.

She climbs on the bed with him but then quickly moves to all fours. John kneels behind her and pushes her dress up. From this point of view, there isn’t much difference between a Telom and a human female, save for the deeper rosy hue of the Telom’s labia. He strokes himself a few times as he let his eyes rove over her pinkish buttocks. He places his hands on her hips and slowly pushes into her. She makes small sounds of pleasure, encouraging his actions.

If the Telom’s mouth was amazing, her sex is even better. John groans despite himself. He closes his eyes and settles into a rhythm. It has been months since he had last been with anyone and it isn’t long before his orgasm rushes down his spine. He pushes in deeper and mutters his thanks and satisfaction.

All at once, he is lying on his back with the Telom straddling his chest. Her gold eyes have changed to scarlet and she is holding a wicked knife in the air above them. John grabs at her arm, trying to get the weapon away from her. She smiles a wicked smile, showing a full row of pointed teeth. Far from feeling the pleasure from a few moments ago, John now feels repulsed.

He pushes against her hips, trying for a purchase to gain control. They struggle for a few moments before John gets the upper hand. He flips her over and they fall into the floor, John on top of the alien with one arm pressing against her neck and the other grasping the arm holding the long knife. He pushes down on her neck whilst grappling for the knife. She gasps for air under his arm and finally drops it in order to use both hands in an attempt to pull his restraining and choking arm away. John only pushes harder, angry now that he has been so easily duped; all the post-orgasmic hormones have been burned up with the struggle. The Telom’s eyes are starting to roll and she pulls away from him just enough to gasp out a few simple words.

“How long…stay…after you find out?” Her eyes finally finish rolling and she passes out cold, the last word merely a whisper on her pink lips.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Captain Holmes has retired to his own suite after his evening with John. He is impressed with what little skill he could glean from the other man and actually has hopes that he’s finally found someone competent to spend what little spare time he has alongside. He has missed working cases almost as much as he’s missed exploration. Maybe tomorrow he will discuss it with John. Perhaps the other man is missing something in his life, too. Their forced partnership could be beneficial to them both, though he needs more data before he can come to a solution that will be agreeable to both of them. The captain sheds his clothing as he walks through his suite. He shrugs himself into a soft, light dressing gown made of the same material as his uniform. He walks as the material warms up to his body temperature and adjusts itself to his naked skin.

A few minutes earlier, Maria had stopped by his room to let him know that John was taken care of for the night in more ways than one. He would not begrudge his new colleague a little time of pleasure, as he was certain John’s travels had left him exhausted and hungry for more than sustenance. It was fine, all fine. Captain Holmes certainly understood loneliness and the need to reach out to another being. For a split second, he wonders if maybe he could have reached out...No. He stops that thought mid-stride.

He is now relaxing on his bunk with a large volume entitled _Alien Life of the 24 th Century_ and happily correcting the mistakes in the text when Maria bursts into the room. He sits propped against the headboard, his long legs straight out in front of him.

“I am sorry, sir, but there has been an incident in John’s room, sir.” She clicks her heels and turns away, the captain right behind her.

They run down the long corridor and almost leap into the lift. It hums quietly and the captain wills it to move faster. When they stop, Maria has her face down toward her e-book and she is typing away furiously. The doors swish open and the captain is the first out of the lift; he leads the way to John’s room. He has no need to talk, to tell his crew what to do. This is why he chose them--they already _know_.

Seconds later, two rather large aliens join them. Captain Holmes nods to them and they make quick work of the doors, forcing them open with their huge seven fingered hands. The pair of body guards steps back and allows the Captain into the room. At once, his gaze falls on John and the Telom underneath him. John nods at the captain and raises his hands. He is pretty sure that he is going to be arrested. Captain Holmes just makes an odd noise in his throat and picks up the long knife lying beside the alien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the names of the aliens, I promise you will learn more about them in upcoming chapters.


	5. Breakfast Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John worries if he is being sent to the brig and Captain Holmes contemplates a traitor in his midst.

John watches in awe as the slender blade in the captain’s long fingers starts emitting a golden glow. The handle does not change, but the blade itself seems like it is lit from within. The captain turns toward him and holds the weapon gingerly, turning it slowly as if inspecting it. The glow gets brighter as the blade is turned. He alternately holds it close to his face and then farther away as his eyes move down the handle. If they were back on Earth, John would swear the handle was made of ivory.

The captain finally seems satisfied and snaps his fingers. The pair of large aliens standing outside the open door waddle in, and, following the captain’s pointing finger, move over to where John is still sitting astride the Telom female, his black trousers gaping around his hips loosely. One of the big guys holds his hand out to John and John grasps the giant paw, slowly standing up. He nods his gratitude to the big male and steps aside.

“Who are these beings?” John asks of the Captain in a quiet voice, his head slightly tilted towards the massive aliens.

“Bodyguards.” The captain replies simply as the pair lift the Telom from the floor. One takes her and swings her over his shoulder while the other reaches seven fingers out for the knife. The captain hands over the blade and the minute the larger alien has it in his wide fingers, the glow fades and it returns to its prior state. Captain Holmes notices John noticing the blade has dimmed and nods to him. “Poisoned.” He explains without explaining much of anything else.

“You aren’t going to throw me in the brig, then?” John wonders partially to himself.

The captain seems amused by that and answers with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “What good would you be doing me in the brig? Besides, it’s rather _obvious_ from any perspective that she attacked you.” John still felt a little bit shaken but the captain sounded perfectly at ease, if not a touch bored with the whole event. Alight then. Apparently the thought showed on his face because the captain launched into an explanation.

“John.” He says, his words thrown about the room like ice shards. “It would be foolish to throw you in the brig for defending yourself. Fortunately, and more importantly, is the idea that any being would attempt something like this _on my ship_ in the first place. I do not suffer fools or spies nor attempted murder lightly. I _will_ get to the bottom of this, believe me. Please try to rest.” With that, the Captain was out the door.

John finally realizes that he has not moved a muscle since the large alien helped him to his feet. Perhaps another shower would help him relax enough to sleep for a few hours. He starts to head toward the bathroom, but passing the bed it seems to call out to him. Since he is only wearing the tight black trousers and they have slipped down over his hips it takes no time at all to squirm out of them and under the decorated duvet. His last thought before sleep overtakes him is that he must remember to ask the captain about what the Telom said to him prior to finally succumbing to his arm across her throat.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Captain Holmes paces about his quarters, taking long strides from one end of the room to the other, turning on his heel to round out the corners. He left one of the Gribs posted outside of John’s door for the remainder of what would be considered night on any planet in this particular Quadrant of space. This pair of Gribs had been selected by the captain not only for their strength but also their loyalty to him. He marches close to the wall in the area that serves as a sitting room, absently brushing his hand against his chin. He rubs at the stubble as he remains deep in thought.

He is more than a little insulted by the attempt on John’s life so quickly after the other man had arrived on the _Neo-Tethys_. He has to admit that it did not _surprise_ him in the least, he was expecting it, but not until much later. He huffs a little. _Idiots_. He knows this has something to do with the Time Gate and the fact that he was taking John down to the planet with him. Obviously some being does not want them investigating the device.

Even more strange was the fact that this _traitor_ (there was no other word for the Telom in his mind, since he pers0nally chooses every single member of his crew and periphery) managed to get through his own screens. Maybe he was slipping? No. He shakes his head, even though there was no one in the room to respond to him. “No. She has been with this vessel for some time. No visitor had ever complained about her services, so that meant that her anger and betrayal has just surfaced.” He believed that he was keeping the investigation of the Time Gate classified, but since it was supposed to be so, apparently every being on the ship besides the control room crew knew about it.

Captain Holmes steps in front of his door and it slides open to reveal yet a third Grib. This one is easily a head taller than the captain and bends down slightly toward the man as the door opens. The captain speaks rapidly to the alien in his own language, the Grib occasionally nodding in the right places. “Finally, I do not want to be disturbed by _anyone_ other than John Watson. Tell Maria I am resting. She is welcome to message me with anything new. That is all.” The Grib salutes the captain as he turns back to his quarters and a hot shower.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John awakens slowly four hours later. His stomach is protesting not only the small sandwich from hours ago, but he is also a little sore from wrestling with the Telom female. He sits up slowly and assess for damage. A little bit of a headache and some sore back muscles, but he is pretty sure he is going to make it through the day. He rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom. Everything is in place and his black uniform trousers have been hung neatly on an invisible rack. His red shirt is filled out as if it were on a hanger, but of course it appears to be hanging in midair.

John brushes his teeth and runs his hands under the tap. He splashes some water on his face and then runs his hands through his hair. He follows with a comb and changes into the uniform. The material is clean and smells inviting. He thinks for a few moments that he could seriously get used to dropping his clothes on the floor before sleeping and waking up and finding them clean and hung up. He smiles a little at this.

John turns the lights off in the bathroom simply by touching the pad next to the door. There are no sounds, the lights simply shut off. He moves past his bunk and stills for second, trying to remember what he did with his ID. Since he had mostly been with the captain prior to this, he had not needed the little insignia. He pulls the duffel bag out from under the bunk where the mysterious tidier has placed it. He reaches into it and withdraws the small gold badge that he had received when completing the paperwork for this mission. He holds it up, noting the brilliance of the brand new caduceus before pressing his thumb to the back of it. He then presses it over his heart and it clings to his shirt.

That settled he decides it’s high time to try out the food in the canteen and maybe run into some beings who can give him some answers to the myriad of questions that burned through his sleep.

John steps out of the lift into the corridor between the canteen and one of the public access rooms. He is not sure what the public access rooms consist of, but he knows they house some exercise equipment and the like. He thinks that he is only going with the captain to the Time Gate for reconnaissance, so maybe later he’ll have some time to check out the public access areas.

He wanders over to a short que that has formed around one of the three counters in the canteen. He has to thread his way through several square tables, each surrounded by four chairs. A human male is working the grill, flipping over bacon and scrambling eggs. Breakfast sounds like a great idea, though it really is hard to get a fix on time of day aboard this vessel. John gives the man a welcoming smile when he places his order. In less than a minute he his carrying a full plate and hot cup of tea to one of the tables; he pulls out a chair and sits his plate on the table. As he takes his seat, it gently moves forward until he is a comfortable distance from the table in order to eat his breakfast. He starts in on his food, watching the lift doors and the open doorway just to get a feel for the routine here.

A couple of beings eventually make their way from the food queue to his table and sit down without much preamble. A young man holds out a hand to John to shake and introduces himself as Jared. John thinks he recognizes the helmsman from the control room yesterday. He gives Jared a nod. Jared introduces his companion, an Odal male with the rather human name Tony. John must have given a reaction to that before he could stop himself, but Jared happily explains that it is easier for humans to remember human names, so the majority of the aliens aboard the ship had been given nicknames that were typically easier to pronounce than their given names. It seemed to work for everybody, so they had fallen into a bit of a tradition with it.

John accepts that and enjoys a bit of conversation with the two crew members. Jared has just turned eighteen and they are pretty sure that if Tony were human he would be about middle age. Tony turns his huge blue eyes towards John and makes a funny sputtering noise that John is certain is a laugh. It’s pretty hard to laugh when your tongue is a tentacle, of course, but John decides that it is an agreeable enough sound.

The other tables about the room have slowly filled and the canteen is a lively place, even at this hour. It appears that the majority of the crew has adjusted themselves to living without sunrise and sunset. They all seem pleasant enough. Tony, by way of Jared interpreting, told him some stories about the adventures he had been on with several other members of the crew in the past. John was surprised to learn that this was actually the captain’s _third_ crew since being assigned to this vessel. Apparently, Captain Holmes is very choosy about his staff, and seems to have a tendency to bring only those he favors forward with him. What is not said, however, is what happens when he is displeased with one of them. Fleetingly, John wonders what fate will befall the Telom who attacked him last night.

All in all, it’s a pleasant hour and John feels himself warming up to the beings around him. They seem to have accepted him and he does not have to dodge any more knives or more than his share of strange looks. He is finishing his second cup of tea and Jared is talking about his parents down on Earth when the sound of Jared’s voice breaking shifts John’s attention from his cup and to the room at large. Every single being in the room has gone deathly silent. The only sound is the purring motor of the lift in the corner. John glances around at the other tables. Several members of the wait staff, two humans and a few aliens, have actually stopped in place while cleaning the rubbish and dirty dishes off the tables. It is a really strange thing and brings to mind the reaction of the crew in the control room.

Ah. That must mean…

But before he can finish the thought, the lift doors have opened and Captain Holmes in all his unkempt glory is striding across the room. John takes note that though the man is partially dressed, he’s barefoot. The captain silently acknowledges the crew members that have stood at attention as well as the wait staff who are also watching him. He casually waves his left hand in the air and continues across the canteen, straight for John’s table, as if he knew exactly where Jon was sitting and had no need to scan the room.

Jared makes a little squeak in the back of his throat and Tony’s breath (or what John assumes is an Odal’s respiration) hitches a little. His pale gills flap nervously on the sides of his neck as the captain gets closer to their table. John just raises an eyebrow and looks at both of them like he’s never seen them before. They certainly do not seem like the same two beings that he was just having a kip with a few moments ago. Jared has jumped to his feet and is holding his arm and hand in a stiff salute. Tony just looks as if he’s going fall down.

John shakes his head at their reactions. He is seriously going to have to talk to the captain about this. The captain stops just behind John’s shoulder and John can make out the slight hand wave to Jared and Tony. Tony quickly regains his composure (though it is really hard to tell with an Odal, they always seem to be flighty) but Jared is still standing there with his mouth hanging open. The captain ignores the young man and speaks directly to John, even going so far as to lay one of his hands on John’s shoulder.

John valiantly suppresses a shudder at the warmth from the other man’s hand through the uniform shirt as it is so unexpected. “John, I would like to train with you for a while if that would be agreeable to you.” As he speaks, the captain tightens his hold on John’s shoulder. John knows that there is only one answer to this statement and that answer is “yes.” He nods and the captain steps back to allow John to get out of his chair. As they move away from the table, Captain Holmes turns back to Jared and says simply, “Jared, if you don’t take a breath you will probably pass out cold. Consider how that would look in your file.”

John does not take the time to look back at the young man, as he does not wish to embarrass him further. Instead he adds the incident to the growing list in his head of topics to discuss with the captain if time ever allows for it. Looking down at the captain’s bare feet and thinking about his half-open shirt, John wonders for a moment if he is seriously overdressed for whatever activity Captain Holmes has in mind.


	6. Your intentions, please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What was that?” It takes John a second or two to catch up with the captain.  
> “I don’t know.” John answers honestly.  
> “Fine, then. Go have your shower and meet me in the control room in twenty minutes. We do have a rather pressing case to solve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I have never attempted to write out a fight scene before, so if its terrible, I'll take all the blame.

John soon finds himself standing in front of the door to the Public Access room closest to the canteen. The captain pulls some kind of card out of his trouser pocket and waves it in front of the doors. The large metal doors swish open and they step inside. The captain moves to the wall and begins tapping on an invisible keyboard while John takes a moment to look around.

The floor is rather bouncy and not slick, he notices as his boots tap across it. The walls are similarly padded. The ceiling, however, is most unusual in that is the blue of a mild spring day back on Earth. John wonders for a moment if Captain Holmes programmed it this way. He watches the other man for a second and shifts his gaze around the room one more time. No exercise equipment is in sight, so that’s not the plan. He is considering the padded floor and walls when the captain’s voice interrupts his train of thought.

“I want to spar with you, John.” The captain is pulling a jumble of things out of his trouser pockets and dropping them into a heap on the floor. He shrugs off his shirt and dumps it right on top of the pocket junk. His bare feet are now perfectly explained, then. “Get comfortable.”

Those last two words are an order and old habits are hard to break. He swiftly unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his boots. The socks get dropped into one of the boots and he picks up the whole mess and carries them over to where the captain has placed his own bundle. The captain pushes an unseen button on the wall and a small square hole opens directly under the pile of clothing and pocket detritus. Their stuff falls down into it with a metallic clunk and the floor closes right back over top.  

“Captain, I am not sure we need to do this…” John is looking for logic but the captain is already rushing him, his head bent down like an angry bull. John holds his arms at his sides until just before the captain’s head connects with his chest. There is a thud and air is forced out of his lungs, but he remains on his feet.

OK, he’s going to fight dirty, thinks John as he steadies himself and spreads his feet shoulder-width apart. John plants one foot and then steps forward with the other as he pushes back against the captain’s shoulders. The captain finally steps away from him, grinning madly. John can’t help but smile back. It has been ages since he had any proper workout, maybe this will be a little bit illuminating.

Captain Holmes rears back and rushes John again, but John is ready this time and steps to the side, sending the captain crashing to the floor with a grunt. It may not be illuminating, but it’s sure going to be fun. The captain is back up on his feet and manages to feint left while spinning on one foot the opposite direction. John is thrown off guard and finds himself with a captain backpack, the other man’s feet wrapped tightly around his ribcage.

“Really?” He asks in monotone, his voice slightly strained by his trapped ribs.

John stands still for a second, testing the weight of the other man on his back. He quickly spins to one side and drops to his knees, sending the captain over his head and once again onto the floor. John considers that the captain needs a breather, but he realizes his mistake when the captain rolls back to his feet and steps in swinging his fists.

John easily steps under the taller man’s reach and lands a blow to his ribcage. Captain Holmes counters the punch with a roundhouse kick that John _almost_ ducks. The bare foot catches him right across the cheek and for the first time since they started, John finds himself on the floor. He lets himself fall flat on his back and lays there catching his breath. He refuses to see stars or do something stupid like faint. He closes his eyes and gets himself back together quickly.

The captain walks over and holds out a hand, smirking down at him. John may be out of practice, but he is really not so dumb. He casually reaches for the offered hand and yanks, hard. The captain’s eyes widen in surprise and John manages to not only pull the other man down to the floor, but also flip him over at the same time. John sits on the captain’s chest and grins in triumph like some kind of lunatic. He can feel the heat from the bare, muscular chest underneath him. It is quite the interesting sensation. He thinks that it would be obvious to anyone else that the power contest between them is still going strong.

Captain Holmes arches his back and bucks John off. John puts his head down and rolls off, then two more rolls and he’s back on his feet. They circle each other, looking for weaknesses. One man jabs with a fist and the other counters it with a slap. For some reason, it is quite satisfying to hear the sound of his open hand striking the captain’s face. The captain retaliates by dropping to his knees and throwing his arms around John’s knees, effectively throwing him to the floor.

“How does it feel?” The captain smirks down at John.

“Annoying.” John huffs back at him. It is like being back in training as a kid all over again.

They go on like this for some time, until they are both sweaty and spent. Every feint, punch, kick and even a couple of bites are met with an equal set of the same. John has a nice bruise welling up on the back of his head and the captain has a bright red handprint on his face. It seems that they are evenly matched.

They finally come to an unspoken agreement to stop once the captain finds himself flat on his back yet again with John’s butt planted firmly on his chest. John is gripping tightly to both of the captain’s hands so that he cannot buck him off this time. John is breathing heavily but the captain looks as if he’s been taking a slow jog in the park. They sit that way for a few moments and John makes the mistake of looking down into the captain’s face. At that moment, he is completely lost.

Captain Holmes is positively beaming. He is watching John’s every movement, from shaking his head to clear the sweat out of his eyes to his strong hands holding tightly to his own. John leans forward to get a closer look. The captain does not shy away, but meets him halfway. Just as they are getting into the kiss, there is a round of applause in the room. John drops the captain’s hands in surprise as he sits up.

Maria has come looking for the captain and opened the door. After watching the sparring for a few minutes, she sent messages to several members of the crew. Those who are not immediately necessary found their way down to the PA room. They are standing around the edge of the room, hands together; many of the faces look absolutely stunned, Maria’s included.

John looks up at the crowd and then back down to the captain. Captain Holmes has the most amazing look on his face that John cannot even begin to describe. John pushes off of the captain and offers his hand to the other man. The captain grasps it and John pulls him up to his feet. He starts to pull him in closer but then thinks better of it. He does not wish to humiliate the captain in front of his crew.

Maria calmly steps up to him and holds out her hand. “No one has ever bested _him_ before. Congratulations.” John shakes her small hand, mindful of not crushing the bones. His eyes find the captain where he is kneeling down and picking up their clothes. The captain does not look back at him, but John gets the impression that this is not over, not by a long shot.

“Alright, alright. All of you get back to where you belong.” Captain Holmes waves his hands at his crew, his bark lacking quite a bit of bite. One young alien snickers but is caught up short when the captain suddenly has a tight hold of the young being’s white shirt. “Any time, Billy, you and me. How ‘bout right now?” The captain’s voice is now an ill-humored growl. Billy looks like he is going to urinate all over himself. John fights the urge to step in, but holds back knowing that it would be the worst possible move he could make. He is, for all intents and purposes, an outsider here. There is absolutely no good reason to undermine the captain’s authority, especially after this exercise.

The captain finally lets Billy go and then turns back to John. He is not exactly smiling, but the corners of his mouth are more turned up than John has seen on the man in the last twenty-four hours. His already wild hair is now sopping wet with sweat, some of the curls plastered to his forehead. John figures that he can’t look much better.

“Shower?” He asks the captain.

Captain Holmes nods the affirmative. “I will drop you off in your room, then.”

They leave the PA room, John with his red shirt on but unbuttoned and carrying his boots. The captain is pretty much in the same shape he was when he requested that John join him, albeit a bit more sopping. As they pass through the canteen, more applause breaks out. The captain seems not to hear any of it but John can feel the blush on his face all the same.

Once in the lift, the captain turns toward John. He places one hand flat against the wall that John is leaning against and uses the other hand to lightly cup John’s chin. He stares deep into John’s eyes; to John it feels like being flayed open. The feeling does not frighten him. He stares back.

“What was _that_?” It takes John a second or two to catch up with the captain. John’s brain goes numb from shock. Well, if this mission is over already he might as well start packing…

“No, you idiot. I don’t mean the sparring. That was _fantastic_. I mean the other _thing._ ” The lift has stopped on the ninth deck but the doors have not yet opened. John is effectively trapped, well, as trapped as he wants to be at the moment anyway.

“I don’t know.” John answers honestly.

“Fine, then. Go have your shower and meet me in the control room in twenty minutes. We do have a rather pressing case to solve.”

John nods and walks out of the lift. The doors close behind him as he turns towards his room.


	7. Brothers' Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Captain Holmes journey to the Time Gate.

Stepping out into the control room from the lift, John’s eyes are immediately drawn to the captain where he stands proudly in the center of the room, casually watching one of the com-screens. He is dressed in his full uniform, though he had added a pair of thin black gloves. His hair has been managed and the curls form tight ringlets about his skull. Unlike other space ship captains, Captain Holmes has no seat in the control room. Apparently he prefers to allow his staff to do their jobs and it seems to John that he likes to stay out of their way the majority of the time.

Some of the crew members, including Maria, stand in a loose half-circle around their commander, also facing the com-screen. John notes that while Maria always stands close to the captain, she always leaves a certain distance between their bodies. She never hands him her e-book, but will send messages straight to the captain’s machine. To John, this was almost like she desires to avoid all physical contact with the man in any capacity. That’s an interesting thought so he files it away for later.

On the com-screen, the Admiral is apparently giving his brother a breakdown of their itinerary to visit Earth and then be shuttled to the Time Gate. The com-screen turns at once in John’s direction and the Admiral speaks to him.

“Ah. John Watson. It is pleasant to see you this fine afternoon. Are you up for a little reconnaissance?” Admiral Holmes’ sneer was meant to create ripples in the universe, and so it did absolutely nothing for John’s composure. For a brief second, he worries that the Admiral had found out about the hot kissing thing that had happened between John and his brother after their spar earlier. He banishes the thought from his mind. On the screen, the Admiral’s eyes narrow but he remains silent, simply nodding at the man he picked to be by his brother’s side.

The com-screen swivels back towards the captain as the Admiral rings off. Captain Holmes looks up at John from the now-dark screen and John can believe for a second that there was a hint of a grin on the tall man’s otherwise tight features. He turns back towards his crew and gives out some last-minute orders and soon enough John finds himself following the captain out of the control and into a lift headed towards the upper deck of the _Neo-Tethys_.

Captain Holmes is quiet until they get out of the lift on the top. John stands still for a moment and takes in the sight of a huge translucent globe covering the entire open deck. Beyond the globe lies the heavy darkness of space, lit with millions of stars. It’s like standing on the flight line of a huge airport, though there are small patches of what appeasrs to be turf here and there around the deck. Oddly, there are even some brightly colored flowers. It is beautiful, but of course John’s words completely fail him.

“Wow.” He says, almost reverently. The captain makes a funny huff and takes off across the deck at full speed. John jogs to catch up with him. By the time John stops, the captain is already opening the door of a small spacecraft and beckoning John to join him. John climbs across the little seats and settles into the one farthest from the door. Captain Holmes gets into his seat and presses a button to release the door. It slides shut with a whumpf sound and whines a little as the seals snap shut around it. John stares at all of the instruments and computer screens that surround them. He is starting to feel slightly overwhelmed, his knowledge of fighting is nothing he can lean on when faced with the ability to fly a craft like this.

“John.” He looks over at the captain who is settling back in his chair as if to sit and watch a movie at the cinema. “John, we only have to tell it where we need to go. Like this.” He reaches up to the headrest of his chair and pulls a tiny microphone from a hidden pocket. This time he does grin and quirks his lips as he says into the microphone “Earth. New Phoenix Station, Arizona.”

He fastens a seat harness around himself and John quickly follows suit. The captain puts his feet up on what John is assuming is the dashboard and seriously looks as if he is considering taking a nap. John wonders if that’s really a good idea out in the middle of space.

“Go ahead John. It’s only a two hour flight. Close your eyes, the craft will take us right into the atmosphere and will give us a few minutes’ warning before we touch down.”

“Alright, you are the captain.” John chuckles a little but then copies him. The seat is quite comfortable and he has traveled enough times to sleep through the majority of the bumps and shakes as they enter the atmosphere of the planet they have been oribiting. For a few minutes, he thinks about asking the captain about Maria just to pass the time but then falls asleep as the craft passes through the dome of the upper deck.

o-o-o-o-o-o

It is a smooth ride and passes by rather quickly. When the craft lands, Captain Holmes shepherds John through another long corridor and then out into the desert. After being back in space for the length of even a few Earth days, John is always happy to have his feet back on solid ground. The heat of the desert billows around them in clear waves. It assaults the face, the back of the neck, the hands, anything left uncovered by clothing. John is inwardly thrilled to find out that his uniform trousers adjust to the heat by loosening up slightly around the legs and waist. His red shirt is nowhere near as suffocating in the desert heat as he would have previously imagined it to be. He thinks to himself that he will accidentally forget to give them back after this case is completed.

The captain gracefully strides next to him across the tarmac and then the tightly packed sand, his boots making little puffs jump up from the ground as he walks. They are surrounded by buildings, space craft and even regular aircraft meant for flying only in the Earth’s atmosphere. There are beings here, both human and otherwise; none of them even glance sideways at the newcomers. Traffic here is a constant, day in and day out, beings travelling between planets, military beings arriving for chartered flights out to space station; even the passage of interstellar freight travels through New Phoenix Station. There are no craft anywhere near as large as the medium-sized _Neo-Tethys_ in any of the docks or bays, however. This station seems to cater to the smaller crafts.

There is little time for questions, so John just makes it his goal to keep up with the captain. He looks around himself, assessing their surroundings. Some things never change, it’s an ingrained habit to constantly be watching out for danger, and he does it most times without his consciousness registering the action. Captain Holmes notices, however, and gives him a sideways glance and slight smile. With someone else watching their backs, he can spend more time processing bigger matters.

The captain holds open a door for John to pass through. The building is a huge twenty-first century looking thing, all metal and glass. John nods his gratitude as he passes by his tall companion into a cool foyer that is set in the middle of four doors. The captain fumbles about in his trouser pockets for a minute then proceeds to pull out a little card with his military insignia pinned to it. He holds the card up to a tiny eye that is set dead center in the door in front of them. The eye shines red and then changes to green. The door on the left opens smoothly. The captain passes through it, John at his heels.

Their boots click neatly on gray-blue ceramic tile. The hallway is door and windowless. It seems to John that it is going on forever when they stop in front of another plain door. Again the captain holds his card up to the eye and the door opens.

They find themselves in another huge room, this one with Admiral Holmes himself standing in the center of it next to another small space craft. He looks down at an old-fashioned gold watch on his arm and gives a curt nod to both of them. “Right on time.” He says quietly. He stands in front of a large computer console, complete with big dials and digital readouts that John cannot even begin to fathom.

For an instant, John worries that the Admiral intends to go with them to the Time Gate.

“John, I am only here to see you two off and wish you luck.” He actually holds out a hand and John is so stunned that he shakes it. The captain ignores his brother completely and instead opens the hatch on the small craft. He climbs in and sits down, seemingly prepared to wait until John decides that it is time to move along. John enters the small craft and takes the other seat. He watches out the tiny windows while the Admiral presses some buttons on the console. The digital readout flares red and without further ado, he and the captain are on their way to the infamous Time Gate.  


	8. Truth and Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “’Straight, true steel blade*’ is the inscription, John.” Captain Holmes delivers the line from memory in his deep, quiet baritone voice. It sparks something in John’s mind, though he cannot grasp why it would even be important to him, especially now. “You cannot be weak when approaching the portal, John. I need to be sure that you can handle this before we come back and actually begin our investigation.”

When they finally unfold themselves from the tiny spacecraft, they have landed in a cavernous room. It is entirely empty except for what looks like an open door floating in the center of it. There is absolutely no way to tell what planet (if any) that they are on. There is only the Time Gate. The room is dark except for the light coming from the portal itself and the steps that are slowly appearing from the floor.

The gate is the shape of a normal doorway, though much wider. There appear to be long, translucent wires hanging from each corner; they are pulsing blue and seem to attach to nothing. Inside the doorway is a foggy mass of swirling light, color and sound that is melodic but is not quite music. There are three steps from the floor leading up to the threshold of the gate. Above it is a wide copper colored plaque with writing on it. John starts to move toward it in order to read the writing, when the captain places a restraining hand on his arm.

“’Straight, true steel blade ***** ’ is the inscription, John.” Captain Holmes delivers the line from memory in his deep, quiet baritone voice. It sparks something in John’s mind, though he cannot grasp why it would even be important to him, especially now. “You cannot be weak when approaching the portal, John. I need to be sure that you can handle this before we come back and actually begin our investigation.”

John thinks it over. “Could this thing actually _kill_ us, Captain?”

The captain continues as if he hasn’t heard. “The Time Gate is not just a portal to other times, other places, other worlds. It will call out to remind you of your best and worst days, your most fervent hopes, deepest desires and your darkest fears.”

John in thrown off-guard, but at least the captain is being honest with him.

The captain steps in John’s personal space, forcing John to look up at him. “Every being that approaches the portal hears and sees something unique to them, to their own experiences in their remembered lifetime. It may be something from the past that haunts you or even something that you want that you have not yet discovered for yourself.”

“Alright.” John looks at the Time Gate and back to the captain. He sets his shoulders. “Do you want me to try?” He’s a quick study. The only way they are going to go further in this investigation is to find out if he can even approach the thing without losing his sanity.

The captain looks undecided for a few seconds as he watches John turn the problem over in his mind. He is not aware of it quite yet, but he is starting to think that there is more to John than meets the eye. He has a few ideas of what John might see and hear when he approaches the portal, and he is not above testing the other man as a kind of experiment, but he really needs John to understand the dangers. He tries again. “John. The Time Gate will cause _all_ of your senses to sharpen, you must remember that what you see may or may not be real.”

John considers the captain’s words. He’s been in enough weird spots in his life to think that a little bit of mind fucking can’t possibly be all that dangerous. But the intense look in the captain’s eyes shows that he is truly concerned. John is almost touched, though he believes he can hold his own. He nods once and the captain gently pulls him towards the bottom step; he has not let go of John’s arm. John can feel the heat from the other man’s hand even through his calfskin glove and John’s own uniform shirt. The room around them is decidedly cooler in temperature.

John stares straight ahead, tilting his head upward to look into the portal. He steps up onto the third step and finds that he can now hear a steady beat emanating from the machine. He is drawn towards the device. He soon finds that it has a pull on him like nothing ever in his life until that moment. His gaze is pulled into the swirling colors and he likens it to staring into the face of an exquisite god. He now sees nothing else and is completely unaware of Captain Holmes’ palm on his lower back. The captain is watching him as intently as John is staring into the chaotic symphony of color and light.

John takes another step toward the portal, now standing on the second step. One step up and he will be faced with a choice to either enter the doorway or turn away from it. John is so into the hypnotizing and melodic chaos of the portal that the captain can only stand and watch as John learns the truth about the Time Gate for himself. He can only hope that his new friend is strong enough to withstand the intensity of its siren song and come back to him the same as he was before facing it. At least John will not be alone.

John is floating on the syncopations of a sound that he deeply feels that he should recognize. It is a constant, the sound of life. It is the first sound that a fetus hears in the womb and the sound a lover hears when they lie on your chest spent and tired and relaxed. He cannot look away from the portal. He comes to recognize that sound: it is a heartbeat. It is the heartbeat of hundreds of shared gods and goddesses; of humans just learning to use fire and tools. It is the last desperate sound of every heart he has seen perish; the shared heartbeats of the hundreds of people he has seen die in as many ways: his family, fellow soldiers, war wounded, the aged and the infirm.

The heartbeat is growing stronger, beckoning him to join it. It is alternately comforting and terrifying. Presently, its rhythm has changed and John recognizes scenes of his life. Is it the intent of the portal to kill him with these memories? The scenes he knows go by in his subconscious mind in a blur. Scenes of happiness and joy: his parents, siblings, and other relatives he barely remembers anymore. More scenes of past lovers and a slight regret at never having established a long relationship with any of them; he is unaware of the tears falling quietly down his face. Soldiers fighting against alien life forms that they can barely see; they are dying, screaming, crying, and angry at the desolation of their homes by invaders that cloak themselves so well they are called the “hidden death.” There are fields of tiny white stones. Those stones mark graves of the millions of people who died in the plagues that came when the Travelers stepped through the Time Gate and into another world. The same portal that is reaching out to touch John’s mind now; almost losing its connection due to the fury and anger that pours through John at the senselessness of it all.

The heartbeat pulses stronger and pictures pour into his mind more rapidly than before. Confused scenes of sex and they are beginning to physically manifest themselves and John leans even closer to the portal. He has yet to take the last step, but he is blissfully and tragically unaware of how close he has come towards the device.

The captain steps forward with him. His hand is no longer on John’s back, but he has removed his gloves. John is tense; the captain can feel it in every muscle in his own body. The captain is balanced on the balls of his feet, feeling the warmth of the Time Gate even through the soles of his boots. His ungloved fingers are wrapped tightly around John’s upper arm. An outsider looking in on the portal would see only the darker silhouettes of two beings outlined in neon blue light.

John’s mind is caught up in a whirlwind of sexual fantasies. He is physically standing with one foot on the second step and one on the uppermost step. He is seeing, feeling, aware of a tight white heat pulsing around his cock. His hands are grasping the slim hipbones of a phantom lover. A long pale back appears in front of him, lying on something blood red. The curve of ghostly buttocks he feels against his own hips as he thrusts deeper, harder. With every thrust, his lover is becoming more visible and more solid weight in John’s hands. John looks down and Captain Holmes is spread on his belly on the biggest antique Harley Davidson that John’s mind can conjure up. The heartbeat pulses around and in him and he thrusts with each beat.

Suddenly, several things happen in tandem. There is the vision of the phantom lover looking back over his shoulder at him. John gasps and shudders from his braincase to his heels as his eyes meet sea green oceans that threaten to swallow him in their depths. John feels himself being pulled forward by the base of his spine as the captain turns over and is lying on his back, his long legs over John’s shoulders. John is buried as deep as he can physically go in his lover’s body. Captain Holmes is as open and willing under John’s touch. His body is pale moonlight and his cock is Vesuvius, red and molten and hot, begging to be touched. John pulls back away from the captain and slams into him again, harder this time. The captain’s eyes close and his head rolls back against the red seat of the Harley. John thrusts once more, twice, three more times and his whole body stiffens against a powerful orgasm. There is so much heat all around him and it all contains a single heartbeat; pulling him closer to the Time Gate. Tendrils of the device’s own making reach out toward him and he is powerless to fight back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that he is lost.

Only then is he physically torn away from the fantasy and the pull of the portal. The neon blue light that surrounds them turns blood red and then black as it pulls away from John. The captain has both of his hands on John’s shoulders and forcibly moves him back away from the portal. His brow creases and his shoulders tense with the effort. In the end, they both fall backwards and the captain is up just as quickly, pulling John away from the device.

For a time, John cannot breathe. He remembers little of the whole ordeal except for the captain’s eyes closed in ecstasy as he is coming into the other man’s body. Oh shit. His brain wants to shut down, wants to go off-line and hide from what it has just been through. He covers his face with his hands, and then realizes how foolish the motion is. He runs a hand down the front of his trousers. They are dry and he is flaccid. The feeling of wellbeing that typically follows an orgasm is missing. It was all in his mind.

John takes a deep breath in relief before his brain catches up with his body and he finds that he is flat on his back on the floor beyond the third step of the Time Gate. The same sea-green eyes and open expression he saw in his head a short time ago are staring down at him. John starts to question the captain, because he just _knows_ that the captain has seen everything that was going on in his head, but the captain speaks before John’s lips remember how to form words.

“Lie still, John. The dizziness will soon pass.” He states while reaching out a steadying hand. John grasps the gloved hand and marvels at the heat of it.

“Did I pass the test, captain?” John doesn’t want to look into the captain’s eyes, but he finds that there is nowhere else he wants to look.

“I think you did.” John hears the slight change in pitch in the captain’s voice. This is not the time for discussion. John completely understands. He needs to get his own thoughts in order before he can make any sense of this. He finds he almost misses the thrumming of the portal’s heartbeat in the silence that surrounds the two men.

They ride in silence back to New Phoenix Station. There is no one to greet them as the engine on the little craft shuts down. They walk companionably towards the spacecraft, their shoulders brushing each other. Still, they say nothing. Each man is lost in his own thoughts about what he just witnessed. Each man feels the presence of the other has taken on new meaning, though what meaning, they have yet to learn.

They disembark the spacecraft on the upper deck of the _Neo-Tethys._ Together, they walk out towards the edge of the huge vessel and they stare off into space. Their hands reach out to each other, long fingers twining with stouter ones. It is a small comfort neither man has known in so long that he has almost forgotten it.

John and Captain Holmes return to the ship and ride the lift past the captain’s deck. He pushes the button for the lift doors at the ninth deck and steps out beside John. At John’s door, the captain pushes himself into John’s personal space and backs him against the wall. John’s hands fall to the captain’s slim hips and the captain leans in. Their lips meet softly at first. The intensity grows as they explore each other’s mouths. They break away, each questioning the other. It is silently agreed that now is not the time. For now, they have this. Another long kiss, a kiss to sleep on, to consider, helping heal the hurts of the past that John has inadvertently shared with the captain.

The captain pulls back away from John and gives him a respectful little bow from the waist. He reaches out and touches John’s face softly with his long fingers. John closes his eyes and leans his head back against his door. One softer kiss and they part ways, John into his room and the captain back to the lift to his own. For the first time in many years, they both feel a peace inside that they cannot put into words.

 

_Note: ***** borrowed from the inscription “Blade Straight, Steel True.” Look it up, you’ll be surprised, I thought it was appropriate._


	9. War Games and Quiet Pools

John is in the canteen again the next morning, having breakfast with Jared and Tony the Odal. Jared gives John a little razzing about yesterday’s sparring incident with the captain and John returns with a little of his own. He has to admit, however, with the business they attended to yesterday that he had almost totally forgotten about that strangely un-awkward kiss on the public access room floor. Of course, now that Jared has mentioned it, he can’t help the way his mind sort of floats out of his head and lands about level with his feet. Now it was all he could think about. Then the one after they had returned from the Time Gate…

“John! John! John Watson!” Jared is snapping his fingers and Tony is waving his tentacles all around, including the one that made up his tongue, in an attempt to get John’s attention back on them. John looks up from his uneaten breakfast very slowly and blinks away the daydream. He finds himself staring into a huge pair of blue eyes that suddenly reminded him of a giant squid he had seen at the aquarium as a kid. Tony’s tentacles are softly suckered onto John’s face and the damp-skin feelings of them are just a little bit startling to say the least. Tony’s big eyes blink as he backs away from John, the tentacles popping off of his skin with slurpy little sucking noises. Tony turns to Jared and mutters a long string of syllables in his own language that Jared seems to understand; at least he seems to nod and smile in all the right places anyway.

“John, Tony says you are in _love_.” Just like any other kid in the universe, he actually giggles at the last word and he pronounces it _lurve_. Jared’s cheeks blush pink.

“What? That’s ridiculous. Just _who_ does Tony think…” John lets the sentence die on the tip of his tongue. Jared is almost rolling out of his chair, he’s giggling so hard. Tony is giving John his alien impression of the adult in this situation; if he would have been human, he would have been rolling his eyes.

Jared stops laughing long enough to point towards the lift. “Well, _him_ , of course!” The young man states and smiles a smile that almost cracks his face. John turns his head to see Captain Holmes striding across the room, not exactly smiling but not wearing his typical bored-with-everything look, either.

The captain stops at John’s table like it’s an afterthought and pulls out the extra chair. As soon as his rear end hits the seat, Jared and Tony scarper for parts unknown. John feels his own cheeks grow warm and then inwardly chastises himself for blushing like a teenager when he looks at the gorgeous man.

Captain Holmes seems not to notice anything out of the ordinary. “John, you can always come up and breakfast with me in my quarters. You could have _any_ meal up there, if you so desire.”

Dear god, it was too early for this and John is going on way too little sleep. He closes his eyes and rubs his eyelids. It was not that he was uncomfortable, not by any means. It was just that he had only known the captain, what three days? What bothers him the most, however, is that he feels like he has been beside this man his entire life and it was only now that he was being allowed to see it.

The captain regards him coolly. John cannot help but notice the way his dark eyelashes framed\ his green irises. “Tell me something, captain. What is your name?”

“My _name_?” He repeats as if he could not believe John would ask him something so inane; of all the things to ask someone, why his name? “Sherlock Holmes.” He says the words quietly as if he does not want anyone else to hear. “This is important for what reason?”

John holds out a hand and the captain grasps it in a handshake, but does not let go after the shaking part is over. “It’s good to meet you, Sherlock Holmes.” Their hands settle on the table. John studies them for a bit, Sherlock studies John.

“I just want to be able to call you something other than ‘captain’ when you kiss me like that.” John does not need to draw the captain a picture for them to both know what he’s talking about.

Captain Holmes nods. “Aye. But in front of my crew it is still ‘captain.’” John silently agrees.

“What now?” He asks, truly wanting an answer from Sherlock, but a little leery of just what that answer might be in the meantime.

“John, I don’t have all the answers right now.” Somehow, John gets the idea that the captain has never uttered that particular string of words together in his entire life. “I want to be with you. I want to finish this case so that I can return to scientific research. I want to find out who in the hell the Telom is who tried to kill you and how she got onto _my_ ship. I want so many things, but it would please me if you could be here with me while I figure it all out.”

John looks down at their hands again and nods to himself. He can handle this, maybe they will not have the most normal romantic relationship, but after what little show of strength the captain used to save John from being lost to the Time Gate, he is willing to follow this man anywhere.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John ducks down behind one of the black box-like barriers. He flips the visor back over his eyes and studies the readout. It is red text across a black field with five tiny red dots that show him where the others are at this moment. It has been several years since he has used one of these devices, and the first time he’s ever used one this advanced. He holds his weapon at the ready as one of the beings moves slowly past the barrier he is crouched behind. He jumps out and takes the being out from behind, this one turns out to be human, to the ground and straddles their chest. He points his weapon at their head and yells “BANG!”

Hands reach up and pull off the helmet and Jared’s smiling face appears. John laughs back with the young man and listens to others being taken down by the captain. He puts his fingers on his lips and winks at Jared. “Shhh” he says softly as he shakes his head and flips the visor back down over his face. Jared knows the rules, so he won’t move from that spot. He carefully watches the red dots, seeing that there is only one still up and moving in the maze. Of course, it’s the captain. John considers how much fun it’s going to be to beat him at his own game. He moves off from the area slowly, measuring his steps and making every single one of them count.

Or at least he thinks he’s on his way to victory until he’s flat on his belly with his hands above his head and a knee in the small of his back. There’s a shift in the weight and a voice in his ear whispering “I sent the others back to their duties, John Watson. We are completely _alone_.” A shudder races down John’s spine as a warm tongue licks at his earlobe. He counts to three and then flips himself over, knocking the captain to the floor. John is gone is seconds and the captain jumps up and runs after him, dodging more barriers. John hears a clatter behind him and realizes that Sherlock has ditched his helmet and probably the mock weapon in his hand as well. He presses on some more speed.

He grasps his own helmet, ripping it off of his head as he is running and grinning when he hears it hit the floor a few meters behind and to the left of him. He tucks the mock weapon into the waistband of his trousers, behind his back to allow his arms more room to maneuver. They have been at this little battle of strength for the last two hours and John is hoping the captain isn’t going to call in anymore “backup” for a while. He knows they need to test each other and find out where their strengths and weaknesses are _before_ they step back through the Time Gate.

Of course, this is all incredibly erotic as well. Every time one of them catches the other, there is blatant teasing. John doesn’t mind being pounced on so much as he is a little concerned that if the captain shows too much of his playful side his crew may decide he’s a pushover.

John has his back up against one of the barriers; he is in a corner with another one of the bulky walls over his head like a big hollow version of Stonehenge. He is consciously controlling his breathing and carefully monitoring the area, listening for footsteps. The public access room is normally quiet, today, however, the captain has it programmed to play soft sounds in the background like a summer’s day on Juno III. There are soft mutterings and murmurs of wild animals and occasionally the sound of wind blowing through canyons. The ceiling above them in a very dark blue and is filled with wispy, golden clouds.

Presently, John hears the tell-tale _snick_ of bare feet on a warm carpet-less floor. Somehow, in his mental wanderings he has missed that the captain has removed his boots. He sits quietly, balanced on the balls of his feet. After several minutes of hearing absolutely no sounds, John moves around the barrier to his left, staying crouched down in order to do so. Still hearing no other sounds, he slowly stands up and peers around.

Suddenly there’s a growl and a huff as the air is pushed out of his lungs when he lands on his back. Sherlock somehow managed to find a foothold (a toe-hold really) on the cross-barrier that was acting like a roof over John’s hiding place. He waited for the other man to stand up before he launched himself forward like a puma after a deer.

The two men slam to the floor and suddenly there are lips meeting and hands searching everywhere with gusto. The captain is wearing nothing at this point but his black uniform trousers and John’s hands quickly find themselves with a handful of really nice backside rather quickly. The captain has John’s face in his hands, his big hands with the fingers that slowly start massaging John’s temples as John’s hands massage his buttocks. The captain purrs into John’s mouth and John pulls hard against his backside, pulling them as close together as they can possibly get. They buck their hips against one another, cocks brushing past each other through the thin material of their trousers.

They are a growling, purring, biting, licking, sucking ball of primal urges on the floor of the public access room. The captain has his teeth buried in John’s neck, just above his collar bone. His shirt has been unbuttoned hastily and pulled back to bare his muscular chest. Captain Holmes cannot keep his hands off of it. John arches his back and bucks into Sherlock’s pelvic region and lets out a feral moan. The captain mashes their lips together, forcing John’s mouth open so he can nip at the other man’s tongue with his teeth, groaning in return. The climax happens fast: their orgasms hit simultaneously and the captain arches his back, pulling his face away from John’s, his muscular arms straining with his release. John arches up into the captain, unconsciously desiring to hold onto the heat and the friction as long as possible. They collapse together in a heap on the heated floor. John closes his eyes as the captain’s head falls to rest on his shoulder. He runs his fingers lightly up the other man’s back and feels small shudders as the captain’s body unwinds from the tension of the morning.

Once they are both breathing normally again, the captain pushes himself back up on his hands and peers down at John. John reaches up and pushes a damp curl off of the captain’s forehead. There is an unspoken agreement between them now and they have no need to discuss it. Captain Holmes pushes himself off of John and immediately stands. “Come with me.” His voice is rough with satisfaction. John feels a flash of pride through his chest as he grasps the offered hand and stands up beside the captain. He feels like he should be embarrassed at the mess he’s made in his trousers, but the mystery material has worked its miracles yet again: there is no dampness beyond a bit of sweat and nothing of the stickiness of ejaculate.

The captain leads them back through the maze and over to a blank wall. As he did before, he punches some complicated code onto the invisible keyboard. Part of the wall slides up, leaving a gap wide enough for them to pass through single file.

On the other side of the wall is a humid jungle, all wide green leaves, thick vines and massive brown tree trunks. John does a quick double-take and then looks up at the captain, who is smiling at him. John wants to never forget that dazzling smile for the rest of his life. His gaze follows the captain’s eyes which lead to an outstretched hand. Beyond the captain’s hand is a tall outcrop of rock and a waterfall. John finishes taking off his clothing and dives into the pool at the base of the waterfall before he even contemplates his next move. He breaks the surface of the water and waves at the captain to join him, before diving back down to the bottom.

When he surfaces the next time, the captain is beside him with his head tilted back, letting the cool water from his hair run down his back. John watches for a moment, captivated. How can someone with so commanding a presence be so unguarded so quickly?

A sigh escapes John’s lips as he feels the heat of arousal warm up his groin again. He turns away from Sherlock, hoping to hide the evidence. He contemplates the greenery, the clear water of the pool (that leaves absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination) and the bright blue sky overhead.

“Sherlock, there’s nothing like this left on Earth. How did you know?” He leaves out _that I have always wanted to see this_ from the end of his sentence.

The captain drops into the water and swims toward John with an easy breaststroke. John can’t help but watch the water cascade down the man’s hairless chest when he stands up next to him. Captain Holmes reaches out a hand and lays it against John’s cheek. “I didn’t know, I observed.” They lock eyes and the hand on his cheek pulls him for a long, meandering kiss. John’s cock decides that it might be fun to try something new. The captain’s hand reaches down and grasps John’s shaft, slowly and softly caressing it. John thinks that now would be a good time for all of his molecules to just float away in the water.

John’s arms are around the captain’s hips. They are standing in waist-deep water in front of an amazingly real waterfall reminiscent of a South American rain forest a couple of centuries ago. The captain’s back is bowed slightly to shorten the distance between them to kiss John’s mouth. Maria can only see one of the captain’s hands so she maintains a respectful distance. She’s got a pretty good idea where the other one is by the shape of John Watson’s arched back. In all the time she’s known the captain, she has never seen him look so _into_ another living being. Never before has her presence been so absolutely ignored by the man. She turns her back to them, almost embarrassed to catch the captain in such a telling position.

John is right on the edge of another orgasm when the captain’s hand pulls away from him. He opens his eyes to see that Maria is standing in the sand just where another doorway would be. At once Captain Holmes is a commander again, even completely naked. He does not let go nor move his face away from John’s, only turns his cheek against John’s to speak to his assistant.

“Really, Maria?” John completely understands the captain’s irritation at this interruption. Completely understands. Certain parts of his anatomy thoroughly enjoy the “captain voice,” so it’s a win-win situation as far as he’s concerned, however.

Maria does not turn around. “I apologize for the rude interruption, captain.”

Captain Holmes closes his eyes and huffs through his mouth. He really believes that she’s just here spying on him for the Admiral until the next words come out of her mouth.

“Captain, there has been a breach in security. The Telom we were holding for interrogation has escaped.” She finally turns to face them and nods in John’s direction.

“So find her. I have enough security stationed around this ship…”

Maria cautiously interrupts her commander. “Sir. That would be alright except she is no longer on the ship. Sir.” She knows she has to say the next part carefully but there is no sense in beating around the bush. “She escaped to the upper deck sir. The craft you used to go to Earth yesterday is missing.”

The captain just stares at her. He has moved his hands to John’s shoulders. John is pretty much trapped. Certain parts of his anatomy have now forgotten what they were carrying on about earlier and are now attempting to remind him that sometimes water is chilly. He really wants to ask questions, but even now still feels like it’s not his place, not yet, perhaps never.

Without saying anything else, Maria turns and leaves them. The lust has gone from the captain’s eyes, replaced with a burning anger. It takes everything John has to not flinch when that anger flashes in his direction. He stares back, letting the captain know that he intends to keep his word. _I have your back._

The captain nods and they walk to the beach and then to the door, picking their clothing up as they head out of the public access room.

“Captain, where is the Telom headed?” John has already guessed what the answer will be, but he wants to be certain.

“To the Time Gate. She must be part of the allegiance.” The captain is moving just as fast down the corridors naked as he does clothed. They head toward the lift and part ways after a quick kiss that the captain initiates before John can move through the doors. He sizes John up quickly.

“Get dressed, meet me in my office quickly. I need to get a message to the Admiral and get a pass from here to the Time Gate. We are going in earlier than planned; you _will_ need your weapon. This could get _dangerous_. Are you with me?” Captain Holmes speaks quickly and with force, but the last four words come past his lips in a passionate hiss as he turns his sea-green gaze onto John with force.

John doesn’t even need to think about the answer. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I am not making too much of a cock-up of these intimate scenes. (No pun intended.)


	10. Never Enough

When John enters the captain’s office this time, the atmosphere is charged. Several members of the crew (John assumes a few security guards as well) sit around the oval table. The Admiral is on the com-screen which has placed itself in the center of the table and the screen is following the captain’s motions as he paces the length of the room, his hands gesturing wilding. John can tell at a glance that the other man is angry but maintaining his cool. Earlier, when they actually had time to talk, he explained to John how he hand-picked all of his crew members so that not only the actions of the traitorous Telom, but now the fact that she has escaped from his own security team has shaken the foundation of trust he thought had been built with his own team.

John stands back by the door and silently watches every being in the room. Tony is here, but Jared is missing, probably due to his young age and inexperience in these matters. Maria is sitting at the table with several alien crew members John does not recognize. All three of the massive Gribs are there, as well, though they are standing with their backs to the wall behind the table. John finally feels comfortable and tunes in to the conversation taking place between the captain and his brother.

“Sherl- Captain. I have no video for the escape. I know you somehow cannot believe it, but I _do not_ keep tabs on you every second of every Earth day…” The speakers of the com-screen caused the Admiral’s voice to break up a little when he shouted.

“ _Goddammit_!” Captain Holmes shouts at the top of his lungs and immediately starts pacing. The Admiral is pretty sure that if looks could kill the com-screen would be full of knives, and not the kind used for spreading oleo butter—but  some like the one the traitorous Telom had in her possession not forty-eight hours prior.  The captain stands in front of the screen and the majority of his trusted crew with his hands in his hair, almost at the point of pulling it out by the roots. Maria is watching him from her seat with a mixture of concern and fear. John moves toward the captain first, slowed down but not quite halted by the murderous stare leveled his direction.

John reaches a hand out and gently lays it on the captain’s forearm. He takes note of the tense muscles and the veins standing out from under the flesh. He doesn’t say a single word, but when the captain turns to face him there is a release of tension in the room for which his crew his grateful.

The com-screen swivels on its base as the Admiral looks at each crew member in turn. “You are all on standby until further notice. Not a word is to be spoken concerning the classified contents of this meeting tonight.” Most of the crew members nod towards the screen in understanding and make their way to the door, except for the three Gribs.

The Admiral waits until the crew has left the room and turns towards the big, seven-fingered aliens. “Sam, Charlie, Bruce.” The Gribs moved in unison towards the table and the com-screen, giving their rapt attention to the Admiral. “I have a special assignment for you.” He continued to talk and John turned his attention back on the captain.

Captain Holmes was so upset that his tense muscles were actually quaking from everything that had happened. John gently pushed him onto his back onto the three-seater couch in the corner of his office nearest the door. He did not say anything, but picked up the captain’s legs and sat down underneath them. Everything about the captain was saying that he needed to get himself under control before they could take the next time. John slowly removed the captain’s _very soft_ tall boots and his stockings. He began to slowly rub the other man’s bare feet and decided that getting his mind on another subject for a short time might do the trick. They could not even begin to approach the Time Gate in this condition, not after John saw how powerful it could be when one was calm in its presence.

“Captain.” Sherlock turned his face from the ceiling to John, sitting up a little on his arms as he did so. Some of the worry John had noticed when first entering the office had drained away from the captain, but not enough by far. “Captain, tell me about the Gribs.” He jerked his head in the direction of the table where the Grib trio was leaning in toward the com-screen; their huge arms balanced on palms the size of tea trays.

The captain looked at the Gribs and then back to John. He narrowed his eyes slightly, full aware of what John was up to, and consenting to the distraction. A strange feeling jumped in his chest and a little more of the tension was swept away.

“Sam, Charlie, and Bruce, the three Gribs, are generally my most loyal staff. Except for the three of them, Maria has been with me the longest.” John probably did not want to hear about his and Maria’s one-night stand, since he asked specifically about the Gribs, so he respectfully left that part out. Perhaps later; this thing between them was so new; he wanted no chance at blemishing it.

“I found the three of them orphaned when they were just little more than larvae on an exploration mission to the planet Reyon about three years after I made captain.”

John nodded to show that he was listening, shut his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa. His hands continue to massage the captain’s feet, occasionally working up to his calves while he spun his story.

“It was after the last great alien war, after we had defeated the Synkes and driven them out of our Quadrant of the universe. The last battles had been fought in and over Reyon. The Synkes had all but obliterated the Gribs, to the point where we feared finding any of them alive. Maria and I were with a small crew who had been sent out to locate new plants for the making of medicines. We stumbled upon the three tiny Gribs that same day, all lying together in a makeshift nest under some dense orange foliage. That orange foliage is the stuff that we found out is capable of killing a rather devious strain of the Traveler’s Plague. I could not leave them behind.”

John understood the unspoken _because they were just younglings_ , but he let it slide.

“I brought them back with me and with Maria’s help, we nursed them and taught them and raised them to be members of the Interplanetary Alliance. I do believe the three of them are the only remainders of a once great race.”

Captain Holmes pushed himself into a sitting position when he realized that Sam, Charlie, and Bruce had come over and were standing by the couch.  He held his hands out to the huge aliens and each one grasped both of his hands in their own. To John, it was strangely touching, this show of respect to the captain, who does not watch them leave; instead he turns his attention back to John.

“I’ve been asked several times in the past why I bothered to save their lives and I have never been able to give a satisfactory answer to the questioner.” John opens his eyes to the captain studying him closely. “Yet, you do not even ask. Why?”

“Sherlock, life is precious. Even I can see what you were thinking.” John continues the massage.

“Yes. How did you know that about _me_?” The captain turns away from John, looking down at his hands in his lap. “How do you know I did not keep them so that I could use their in-born sense of loyalty for my own gains?”

“You were not yet aware of it.”

The captain said nothing. In his life he had always been the one able to read every other being around himself, excepting a few alien races that were totally bereft of any kind of emotion.

“I’ve been accused of being a machine, John.”

John thought back to the waterfall and the humid jungle; the hungry love making; the searing, questioning look in the captain’s eyes in the lift the first time he asked John what the kiss was all about. This man may be different but he was no machine. John told him so.

“That’s not what most beings say to me.”

“What, then, do they say to you?” John was having a hard time imagining anything negative after seeing the way the man’s own crew treated him.

“I think they consider me strange and unfeeling.”

“You who are brilliant, quick-thinking, protective and truly hurt that some being would be so disloyal to you as to attack a stranger on your ship? You are not strange and unfeeling, Sherlock, perhaps a little intimidating to some, but not unfeeling, not at all.”

Captain Holmes stretched his legs across the couch, pointing the toes that were in John’s lap. For a second John considered that he had just adopted the universe’s largest domestic house cat. Sherlock’s eyes closed and he sighed.

“Well, I guess we have to get to it.” He made no move to get off the couch. John leaned toward him, seriously contemplating kissing him. Sherlock met him half way, slowly dropping his legs toward the floor so that they sensually rubbed down John’s own. John grabbed the captain by his face, steadying his lips. The captain reached for John and grasped him around the waist while their tongues danced and played to a merry little tune of humming and groaning with pleasure. The captain felt himself start to stir. John pulled back just a little more, desperately wanting to finish what they had begun earlier. He moved himself around so that he was soon lying on top of the captain, stretched out along the taller man’s body, one hand around the back of Sherlock’s head and the other one gently tugging at the captain’s erection.

The captain held John tight by the waist and was pulling him closer when John reached down to fondle him; he carefully pulled the waistband of his trousers down enough that John could grasp him fully. John pulled his legs up a bit until he was almost straddling the captain. Captain Holmes worked John’s trousers down and grasped his cock, John hissing and clicking his teeth together as he leaned his head backwards. Both men were so completely wrapped up in watching each other that they completely failed to see the com-screen on the table flicker to life. The Admiral appeared for just a second, his eyes going wide, taken with the scene on the couch, then the screen went black again.

It didn’t take long until John came shouting the captain’s name. The captain himself came with a shudder and a deep groan that vibrated through his chest. John leaned down and gave the other man a leisurely kiss, then slowly moved away from him. They stood together and wiped themselves down with papers taken off of the captain’s desk. It wasn’t perfect, but the miracle material of their trousers will take care of the rest. One last kiss and it was time to get down to business.


	11. Doors

Captain Holmes and John Watson enter the control room together, walking close enough that their shoulders rub. No one seems to notice them as they step off of the lift. The same buzz of activity is here, but there is a strange river of tension running underneath it. A stranger has been added into the mix, a tall dark-haired man in a long white lab coat. He stands just in front of Tony’s kiosk, speaking to the Odal in his own language. Tony is nodding and a couple of tentacles are waving in the air, as if he is concentrating deeply on the stranger’s words.

The captain strides right up to the stranger and holds out a hand. John hangs back but still steps past Maria to be close to the captain. She does not make a sound, but moves back just enough to let John pass. She watches him for a moment as if to size him up, and then goes back to her e-book.

The stranger says a few last words to Tony and then turns to the captain, his own hand outstretched. They shake and the captain holds his other hand out toward John.

“John Watson, this is Professor Allen Royburn. He is one of the founding scientists who developed the Time Gate.” The captain explains.

John shakes the offered hand. The Professor’s hands are soft with manicured nails. “Professor.” The two men give each other quick nods. Allen speaks primarily to the captain, but it is quickly obvious that everyone in the room is hanging on his every word. “Captain, I know you desire to jump from the deck of the _Neo-Tethys_ straight to the Time Gate, and I think we can do that. But I want to explain in detail the risks that _one_ person would be taking to do so. It’s almost insanity for _two_ people to…”

The captain cut him off with a silent gesture. “I do not have time to debate the physics of this with you, Allen. I need to get down there, I need to solve this riddle, I need help doing it, therefore you need to make sure that I can get to the portal.” John felt a little sorry for the Professor, taking the full brunt of Sherlock’s stare was akin to be smacked upside the head with a cricket bat.

Allen reeled back a little. He knew the dangers, the captain knew the dangers. Hell, even the Admiral knew what could happen if it all went pear-shaped. But! And this was big one, Professor Royburn was all about the science, and since he had been _ordered_ to perform this experiment, then he really had no choice.

“Alright, Captain. You have studied the Time Gate then. You took him to test it?” Allen twisted his head toward John, but never took his eyes off of the captain.

“Aye.” Captain Holmes was not patient and he was ready to get moving again.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John almost reconsiders. He took a long look at the contraption in the Professor’s hands, another long look off the side of the vessel and then did some serious calculations. The gist of the whole plan all came down to literally _jumping off_ the top deck of the _Neo-Tethys_ , which was no longer sitting in a safe orbit around Earth but was headed at warp speed to the secret No Name planet where the Time Gate was _in situ_. The strange little device that the Professor was currently holding was their passport to the portal. It was an assurance that they would actually land on the threshold of the doorway to the Time Gate.

It was _not_ , however, a guarantee of what would happen once they landed.

One more time, John reconsidered.

“That was the second time, John.” The captain drawls at his side. He is facing away from the side of the ship, even though his back was leaning against the rail. John thinks that he looks glorious.

John continued to look out into space off the deck. “The second time, what, captain.”

“You have reconsidered.”

John couldn’t argue. “Yes.”

The captain was silent for a few seconds, green eyes watching every move the Professor made as he pushed buttons on his contraption and waited for it to come to life.

“You can still back out.”

“No.”

“Fine, then. Do you remember everything?”

John turns around so that he stands side-by-side with the captain. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. Since first stepping foot on this vessel, his life had been a serious rollercoaster ride of events, starting with the first meeting with this crazy spaceship captain. He’d been almost killed, twice, and was still contemplating not changing a thing.

“Yes.” He did, too. The most important rule is that they needed to keep physical contact with each other. Not like they had not been doing that as much as possible the past few days. “Is that why we…”

Captain Holmes eyes John warily. “No. John. This thing between us is mutual and is completely unexpected. I would have no problem holding onto the arm of a complete stranger if that stranger were strong enough to survive the Time Gate.”

“Let’s do it, then.” John holds out his right hand to the captain. The captain grasps it in his left, his fingers already gripping John’s very hard. They both turn to peer over the railing and behind them they hear a loud high-pitched whine. There is no warning and they are surrounded by white light. John can barely see anything other than the bright light, but he can feel the pull of Sherlock’s hand on his own. He pulls the hand closer to himself and is rewarded with the feeling of the captain’s body against his own. They manage to maneuver each other so that the captain’s hands are on John’s shoulders and John’s are on the captain’s waist.

The captain places his head on John’s shoulder. The bright light and the motion are making him slightly nauseous. John can sympathize. He tries not to think about just drifting in space; he tries not to think about the face that there is nothing under his feet and that they could just drift for hundreds of years.  Just as he feels he can’t take the brightness one second longer, everything is dark and they are slammed down feet-first on something hard and unforgiving.

They stand, holding each other just long enough so that their heads stop spinning. They move away, their hands still clasped together. The darkness grows lighter by degrees, almost an early morning just prior to the sunrise. Together they look up and see a doorway filled with swirling colors.

They have made it.

John is already feeling the Time Gate reach out to his subconscious, throwing him images of dead soldiers, his mother and a naked, writhing Captain Holmes. John concentrates only on the real captain standing beside him. He concentrates on the feel of their fingers entwined. He feels a squeeze of his fingers. They step over the threshold and into the swirling mass of fog. The heartbeat has started in the back of his skull and is now _everywhere_.

There is an immediate and bone-crushing pressure from all sides. John remembers to feel for the connection, to feel for the touch of the captain’s fingers in his own. He closes his eyes and lets the captain lead. The heartbeat has grown stronger and faster. John fights it with all the strength of will he possesses. The captain’s hand feels loose, but only for a second and then there is a pressure on his back. He moves forward with it. The portal is angry. It gave him up once and it does not want to do so easily this time. He feels the pressure on his back, but also the portal’s pressure on his mind, threatening to destroy it.

John pushes forward. The heartbeat stops. The pressure is gone.

“John. Open your eyes.” Still the warmth of a hand on his back is comforting, warm even through the uniform shirt.

John does as he is bid. They appear to be in a lobby of sorts. There are large stone tiles beneath their feet and a stone pedestal in front of them. Finally, John lets go of Sherlock’s hand and steps up to the pedestal. A large book is open on it, but the pages are completely blank.

There are several closed doors in front of them, each one having what appears to be a label across it. John cannot read the language on the labels, though it appears the captain may be able to do so. He watches as the captain’s lips move as though he is reading; he is concentrating on each door in its turn. John remains silent at his side, patient.

Captain Holmes points to one of the doors. It is a heavy-looking, wooden affair, complete with a huge brass knocker in the center. They start to move towards it together but there is a strange noise behind them that should not be there.

A humanoid alien seems to have appeared out of nowhere. John is on the alert, quick to step in front of the captain as if to shield the other man. The female has bright yellow skin, saffron hair and orange eyes, three of them. She is completely naked, except for the long, thin-blade knife in her hand.

She advances on them, knife held out in front of her body. She speaks to them calmly but neither man misses the implied warning.

“Trespassers must die.”  Yeah, can’t miss that warning, John’s mind supplies unhelpfully.

The captain holds up both hands, palms facing the alien female. “We were sent here. We are trying to find information.”

The alien listens and points the knife towards the stone floor. “Information?” Her voice is reptile-like, with little hisses that emphasize the _s_ ’s when she speaks.

“Some _visitors_ came through here not to long ago and they died. Do you know anything about it?”

The female seemed to ponder the question for a few moments, possibly considering what she would gain or lose with any answer she could give. John recognized her as a Tyot, a species of beings known to be intergalactic drug dealers, smugglers, and mercenaries.

“No.” She finally answers and eyes John warily. She still seems a little too eager to use that blade on something living so he remains where he is.

“Thank you. We will take our leave then.” Captain Holmes pushes John forward into a rough bow and he does the same. He continues to walk backwards to the door he pointed out to John earlier, never turning his back on the Tyot.

She watches them leave and makes no move to stop them. Captain Sherlock Holmes is going to need all the help he can get. She moves away from the doors to go back to her hiding place, waiting for the next unschooled traveler to fall victim to her knife.


	12. Warnings

They pass through the door into what appears to be an outside market venue.

“The Tyot was lying.” The captain says firmly.

“Isn’t that par for the course with them?” John gives a half-chuckle.

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t understand, captain.”

They are walking side-by-side through vendor’s stalls, occasionally stopping to check out the wares. They have to remember to look as if they _belong_ there.

“Of course you don’t understand, John, you don’t _see_.” The captain speaks under his breath in almost a hiss. “Yes, they have been intergalactic trouble-makers since we have been aware of them. No, it’s not par for the course that _because_ she’s a Tyot, she’s lying. Sometimes telling the truth can be useful, too.”

“Alright, Sherlock, I can accept that.” John’s head feels like it’s on a swivel, he is trying so hard to look at _everything_ around them. Captain Holmes is practically running through the open-air bazaar and seems to know exactly where he is going.

John just shuts up for the moment and concentrates on following the captain. There are beings and wares everywhere, some even in the middle of the aisles. John recognizes a few of the alien races he has seen since stepping into this world? Or is it a time? He’s got to remember to ask when they finally stop. He starts to feel somewhat overwhelmed by all of the hustle and bustle and the myriad of voices that surround them. In order to rest his eyes he just stares at Sherlock’s back. Specifically, he stares at the back of Sherlock’s nice tush surrounded by his tight uniform trousers.

John has learned a few things about those black uniform trousers and he knows that the wearer can choose to make them loose or tight, depending on when the belt button is depressed. He’s fairly certain that the posh tush in front of him was intentional. He is a million light years away when suddenly he is stopped face-first by that posh tush.

“Ugh.” He grunts and pulls away from the captain’s backside.

Sherlock pretty much ignores the whole thing and says without turning around, “We’re here.”

John walks around the captain in order to find out just where _here_ actually is. They are standing in front of a vendor’s stall not unlike the billion or so that they just walked past. A squat human is sitting on a three-legged stool at the counter in front of them. The stall is full of shelves. Empty shelves.

John starts to ask what’s going on when the counter in front of them is snapped open. The man gives them a nod and a wave, gesturing to a set of sickly yellow curtains that line the back of the stall. Sherlock walks through as if he does this every day. John has to admit he’s a little impressed, but still on the lookout for any more dangerous weirdness than usual.

The captain holds out a hand and opens the curtains, ushering John inside first. The room they enter is dim and much bigger than it seems like should be possible given the width and breadth of the virtually empty stall they just passed through. It smells strange in here, too, like someone put a wet, muddy domestic canine in a laundry drier. John really wants to pinch his nose, but since he’s on completely unfamiliar territory, he just decides to suck it up.

They step over some cardboard boxes and John peers around. There are stacks of things everywhere, but it all just seems to be vague shapes to him. Of course, there’s a pretty high chance that he may _not_ want to know what all of it is, if the smell in the air is any indication.

Finally, they come to an even smaller room. It is empty except for another three-legged stool that matches the one out front. On it sits an old human woman. She is hunched over a moth-eaten blood-stain brown afghan that was probably pink fifty years ago or so. She is a tiny little thing, her little feet do not touch the dirt floor. Her wispy hair is pure white and when she looks up at the two men, her pale blue eyes are cloudy.

When she speaks, however, her voice is strong. “Sherlock!” She exclaims with a toothless smile as she reaches up to the tall man. The captain leans down and lets her embrace his shoulders with her little hands. She pats his back as he pulls away from her.

“ _Maman_.” She reaches up to pat his arm. “ _Maman_ , this is John Watson.” She looks towards John and holds her hands out toward him. He steps forward and while she does not embrace him, she pats his hands and he has the feeling that the blind appearance of her eyes is not what it seems.

“Tell me child, then, what young lovers seek.” Maman states in her surprisingly sturdy voice.

“ _Maman_ , I come seeking answers to deaths that occurred when fools passed through the Time Gate heeding no warnings.” Sherlock kneels in the dust at the old woman’s feet, his head bowed as if in supplication, but it is merely to allow the old woman to lay hands on his head. She gently touches his curls, pulling them out of the neat coif. John stands behind him, watching her in amazement.

“Ah, John Watson, he is like son to me these many years. He still pays tribute to the ways of blind old women.” She beams her pink smile at him.

“ _Maman_ that is not true, you know. It is to you I come seeking truth.”

John gets the impression that this is a little play of sorts and each one of them knows which part to act out. It is a ritual, and both people seem content to be part of it.

Sherlock raises his head and Maman meets his eyes with her own. She reaches out to touch his cheek. “There is danger, Sherlock. The Travelers have returned to take back what they once felt was their due. I wish I could ask you to go back to your ship and leave well enough alone, but we both know that will not happen. Am I correct?”

Sherlock gazes back at her for a moment, silent, and then he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Am I to believe this brave young man passed through the portal at your side?” She turns her head towards John and he feels the weight of her intelligent gaze even in the dim light.

“Yes, ma’am.” John feels it prudent to speak for himself. Sherlock catches his eye and nods mutely. He did the right thing.

“Then I will tell you both that they are stronger this time. They are angry, Sherlock, and they are seeking revenge. There are things that have been taken from them that they desire. They came through the portal in order to conquer new worlds, but humans and other beings stood up to them and pushed them back to their own universe. Medicine was created to fight off their disease, in part thanks to you.” She patted Sherlock’s shoulder as if she were Queen inducting a new Knight. He stood up in front of her and she grasps his hands in her withered one. “I will not be able to see you again, you realize this?”

John watches as Sherlock nods. There is something inherently sad in her words, even to someone who has never laid eyes on her until today.

When they are back outside the strange structure, Sherlock explains to John about _Maman_. He has known her most of his life. She tends to show up when she is needed, and never in the same place twice, though she always appears in the form of a very old woman. She has been his guide in the past, and it is partially due to her advice that he saved the three Gribs and found the medicine that helped fight off the Traveler’s Plague.

“She is such a benevolent spirit, John. She could never be replaced.” They walk for a while in silence; it seems as if they are walking away from the massive bazaar. They are standing on a hillside overlooking the encampment when the captain speaks again.

“I have to thank you, John. No one has ever wanted to be by side before, at least not like this.”

John is unsure what words to use to answer that statement. The captain continues, “Even my crew: they work _with_ me, each being to their own job, but never beside me. They are all very good at what they do.” To this, the captain nods his head slowly; his eyes scan the horizon and John understands that he is very far away in that moment. That explains to him why the captain does not involve himself in the day-to-day running of the ship and why there is no bridge, but a control room. It takes a room full of hand-picked personnel to run the ship, not just a single man. John is impressed with what that all really means. As self-centered as Captain Holmes seems to be on the outside, the fact is that he is actually highly open-minded; he values the knowledge and skills of his crew over his own perhaps?

John wonders if the moment is right, but he chooses it anyway. He steps around the captain and pulls him in close. The captain returns the embrace and they look out over the colorful bazaar.

“Captain, where are we?” John asks against his chest.

“We are on Juno II. Perhaps a better question, however, would be _when_.” Sherlock says quietly.

“Alright, when, then?”

“Late 22nd century, when paper money was still an acceptable currency. It was a time of peace on this planet and a time of fair trade.”

John watches as the two suns begin to set; a bright yellow ball above a smaller red one. The sky is like fire, beautiful colors that reflect against Sherlock’s green irises when he leans down and allows John full access to his mouth. John kisses him slowly, carefully, just an attempt to give comfort. He isn’t sure how much more time they are going to have together and he wants to take advantage of it now.

“Where do we go from here?” John asks as they resume walking. His arm is around the captain’s waist; Sherlock has draped one arm around John’s shoulders. The sky is darkening around them, it is quiet here. Sherlock stops and pulls up a sleeve on his sapphire blue shirt. He is wearing a silver band similar to a watch around his wrist. John wonders how he missed it before. Sherlock presses a button on the band and several tiny lights appear. The captain does not answer, but he holds out one hand to John and John takes it firmly in his own. Sherlock presses the tiny red light and in the blink of an eye, they are standing back in the lobby-like room that is the entrace of the portal.


	13. What next?

John barely has time to process the lobby when they are surrounded again by the burst of bright light and when he opens his eyes they are back on the upper deck of the _Neo-Tethys_. It feels like they have been gone for hours, but the crew is still standing about the deck in a half-circle as they were when he and the captain left. It’s such a strange feeling, to have been to another planet altogether, plus or minus a couple hundred years and then wham! right back where you were and everything looks as if you never left.

Captain Holmes recovers first, John feels a hand on his back and he turns his head slightly to study the other man. He is staring hard at Professor Royburn. “How did you catch us so quickly?”

The Professor looks up from his device, he is in the process of closing it up like gift. When he looks up, his face is open and honest. For some reason, John was expecting something else entirely. “Captain, when you jumped back from Juno II, your movements left a signature that this device picked up,” he pats it lovingly as if it were a treasured pet. “I had to extrapolate your precise location, but as almost an entire day had passed on that planet, I worked out to a percentage approximately where you would end up, and well….I guessed.”

The captain just stared at the other man more intensely. “You knew we were on Juno II?”

“Aye, Captain.” Allen dropped his hands down to his side and tried to look as unruffled as possible. It was apparent to John that he had not explained every minute detail to the captain. “I tried to explain all this to you earlier, but you cut me off.”

The captain closes his eyes for a second, his hands behind him grip the rail; no one but John can see that, however. “Yes, you are correct. So I did. If you knew _where_ we were, was there any time you could have gotten a lock on _when_?” From anyone else, that question would have seemed rather odd. John was becoming to expect it, but, since he had been there he understood that captain’s desire to protect _Maman_.

“No, captain, I could not. That is one of the risks I wanted to explain to you. The device could search within a set time frame, but in the event you or I do not set parameters for it to search within, it is possible that you could go too far for me to get you out because the device would start searching as far back as the beginning of time.”

That was a bit of unwelcome news. John felt it hit the sides of his face like a cold slap. It wasn’t even the idea that they could go out too far to be rescued. He had the impression that the captain, however his trust in his crew, actually _preferred_ to work alone, doing whatever needed done in the moment without having a set plan. John understood that this was going to seriously cramp his style.

“Professor, you have twenty-four hours to come up with a way that I can communicate with you. You can track me to a point, but in order to successfully investigate, I cannot have you following everywhere we need to check into. Some sort of communication device is preferable. I can keep you updated to our when and whereabouts, but I will not be tethered.”

“Aye, Captain.” The Professor points at a couple of the crew still milling around and has them lift up the device. John hears him say that he needs some help in the lab. There is a quick word with Maria and then she’s gone the opposite direction, fingers tapping away at her e-book.

With that the captain steps away from the rail and settles into his stride. He never stops, though he does call over his shoulder to John. “John, we need to eat.” John breaks the walls of his own shock and indecision and hurries to the captain’s side.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Another tall Telom, this one male, is serving lunch in the captain’s office. John waits until the captain has seated himself and dipped his fingers into the bowl of water provided before John takes a seat opposite him. He dries his hands quickly and puts the white towel in his lap. He smiles when he uncovers the plate of meat, cheese and exotic fruits that has just been placed in front of him. An Odal glides through the door with a bottle of wine and gently opens it, pouring a measure into the glasses set for them.

John watches the wine fall from the bottle into his glass. It is not red, nor is it white. It’s almost violet colored, as it tumbles out of the bottle; however, it is completely clear. He nods to the Odal who nods back and takes a sip. It’s a pleasant taste, fruity and sweet with just a hint of alcohol underneath. It’s the right drink for a mid afternoon. It is a blend purchased by the captain for its relaxation properties and not for its ability to make one drunk.

He carefully sets the glass back on the table and tucks into his plate. Everything is exquisite and he and the captain eat in silence for a little while, each man lost to his own thoughts. They are almost finished when the door swishes open and Maria arrives, her e-book held down at her side for once.

“Captain, John.” She nods to them both in turn. They greet her the same and she pulls out a seat a few down from the captain, lying her e-book flat on the table.

“Captain, Tony received a rather disturbing transmission just before you and John arrived back on the ship. Would you like to take a look at it?” She pushes a button on the device and it plays a smart little chime as it powers on. She slides it down the table to him. He stares at the message and then passes it over to John.

_They are returning. Get out of the way now, Holmes, and you will live._

John looks up to the captain and raises an eyebrow. He isn’t sure how much to say in front of Maria. The captain gives him a tiny nod. “Is that _they_ as in the Travelers that the old woman warned us about?”

A surprised sound escapes Maria’s lips. “You saw _Maman_? How is she, captain?”

“Very well, Maria. She told us that the Travelers are angry and they are coming back in order to find something that had been taken from them. Any ideas?”

Maria sits quietly, gathering her thoughts. She knows of the Traveler’s reputations for cutting large swathes of destruction and chaos through any galaxy they choose to invade. She’s full aware of the struggles of many races since they had managed to fight the Traveler’s off the last time. She thinks about Bruce, Charlie, and Sam and what their lives had been like growing up on an Interplanetary Alliance ship. It’s a far cry from the freedom of Reyon, but she hopes it was far better than being a slave to one of the most ruthless races of the universe.

She sighs and leans back against her chair. Normally so straight-backed, sometimes she just needs to take the load off. The male Telom that had served lunch came through and picked up the plates. He was prepared to take the wine-glasses as well, but the captain held out a hand and stopped him. “Another bottle, if you will.” He asked the alien being. He’s back with another bottle and a third glass for Maria before she speaks again.

“You took the last three Gribs from them, captain.” She sips her wine. She prefers something a bit stronger, but this is the captain’s favorite. It always reminds her of him, pleasing in small doses but completely overwhelming if taken in excess. She decides she needs to have a little chat with John later, but first, back to the subject at hand.

“Besides that, you managed to help defeat their Plague.” She looks to John who seems a little confused. “They always send a disease through prior to their full-scale invasion. It helps clear the way for the conquerors if the race to be conquered is already weak.”

John nods his understanding; he knows battle tactics a bit too well; almost as well as the damage caused by the Plague. “We stopped them once, we can stop them again.”

“Perhaps, John Watson, perhaps. Unfortunately, this time there will be no warning at all. It seems they are poised to just come straight into a battle.”

“Ah. That means they will spread disease just as the IA is gearing up to fight back.” John takes another sip of his wine.

The captain so far has said nothing, watching the interchange between John and Maria with interest. He is privately a little thrilled to see that nothing he was told has shocked John. The other man merely set himself into a ‘ready for battle’ mode. It’s quite impressive and the captain fully intends on showing him just how impressed he is as soon as they can be alone.

The captain finished his glass of wine and reached for the bottle. Maria put her hand over her glass; John holds his up and finishes what is left in it in one gulp. The captain pours more into each of the glasses and sets the bottle back down on the table. Just as the captain moves to set his glass down, a little chime rings out and the com-screen slides up through the tabletop.

Professor Royburn takes a look around the table. “Captain, I think I am close to a design you might approve of. Could you come down and take a look in person?”

The captain pushes himself away from the table. “I will be back shortly. Would you meet me in my quarters, John?”

“Aye, Captain.” John says with a smile. The captain grins back at him and leaves the room.

“What happened between the two of you, Maria?”

John’s voice takes her completely off guard. For a moment, she has forgotten that she wanted to have a discussion with him about this very subject.

“It was only once, John Watson. I am no threat.” She casts her gaze down at the tabletop.

“I am aware that you are no threat to me, Maria. I was asking you what happened.” He is being direct in his questioning. Maria considers for a moment just leaving, she does not have to take this interrogation from a civilian. Something in his voice, however, makes her stay. She brings her eyes to his.

“He would have burned me up alive. John Watson. I could not handle him, even for one night. How are you doing it?”

Now it was John’s turn to be taken aback. He was not under the impression that he and the captain had been doing anything impossible. It sure didn’t feel impossible when it was happening. He chuckled a little and smiled.

Maria could not believe that smile. Since this man had stepped foot on the ship, the captain had dropped some of his façade towards her and everyone else. It was still obvious that he was completely in charge, but there was something softer about his rough edges as well. Maria believed at that moment that Captain Holmes was changing because of the direct influence of this heretofore unknown person, John Watson. That gave her a little thrill of joy. In all the years they had known each other, she could only say that he seemed most glad to be alive when he was out exploring the galaxy. She had thought that she could rein him in a bit, and it still hurt a little that she had been wrong, but this was something else entirely.

“I like you, John Watson. You have been very good in many ways for the captain. He needs to know that someone believes in him.” With that, she took her leave.

John contemplated Maria’s words for a time. He had no idea how long the captain would be gone but thought that perhaps he should just go on up to his quarters. He left the office and moved quickly down the corridor towards the lift. As it carried him to the next deck, he thought about how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time.

He had gone from fighting aliens to, well, nothing. When he had been hired for the first job for the Admiral he had been surprised at how good he was at investigating. It had been a simple case, just looking for something that had been stolen from someone in the Admiral’s staff (turns out it was actually just a case of mistaken theft, not intentional at all) but it had been his ability to read people that had given him a nudge in the right direction. It did not matter that he was no longer a soldier, that he may have damages in his mind that would never heal, he was being useful again.

After helping out with a couple more small cases, the Admiral sent him notice of a bigger job aboard an IA ship that was currently orbiting Earth. John took one look at his current life, the fact that he needed more and sent his answer straightway. After that, everything was a whirlwind that only stopped when he kissed a man that he barely knew.

But that wasn’t entirely true, he thought as he stepped into the captain’s rather homey quarters. He made his way to the little bathroom and turned on the tap for the shower. He stepped in and began cleaning off the dirt from travelling, barely paying any attention now to the sound of the seals locking around the doors. After just a few days’ time, he felt like this is what he had been primed for his entire life. Meeting the captain was just the icing on the cake. There was a battle here that he could fight, and there was so much now that was actually _worth_ fighting for.

His musings were cut short when he heard the sound of the door seal break on one side and a tall, lean body stepped into the shower with him. John moves into the body and pushed the captain up against the wall, running soapy hands down his chest and legs, coaxing pleasing sounds from his throat. John reaches up and places a kiss on the captain’s Adam’s apple, giving a little flick of the tongue for good measure. He pulls back and tilts his head in order to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, closing his eyes as the captain grasps his already hard cock in one hand, stroking him slowly.

“Hello.” John says lazily.

“Hello.” The captain rumbles and pulls John into a deep kiss. They break the kiss and the captain spins John around so that he can take his own place under the spray of warm water.

As the captain proceeds to wash his chaotic curls, John asks him how things had gone with the Professor. Sherlock informs him that it seems Allen is close to producing what he wants, but the first attempt had been a bit too bulky. He needs something that’s going to be easily hidden.

The captain reaches behind himself and turns off the water. The seals around the door snap open with a hiss and he moves to step out of the shower. John grasps his hips from behind and slowly rubs himself all over the captain’s backside. They both close their eyes but soon reconsider their position when the captain’s feet slip a little on the wet tile.

They make their way to the bed and slip into it quietly. The captain holds himself up on his arms and covers John’s naked body fully with his own. John’s arms come up and grasp him at the waist tightly as their lips meet. He nips at the captain’s mouth and sighs when the other man repeats the action. He runs his hands down the captain’s muscular back and feels him arch upward, effectively pushing his hips downward and brushing their cocks together.

They moan and mumble and John flips them over so that he is the one balanced on both arms over the captain’s body. The captain grabs handfuls of John’s backside and pushes downward, searching for the best friction. John lets go the captain’s mouth with his own and kisses down along his jaw line. The captain tilts his head back, giving John better access to his throat. John chuckles softly and sinks his teeth into the warm flesh there. The captain moans louder and pushes into John that much harder.

There is the sound of the door of the captain’s quarters being crashed open from the outside. One of the big Gribs is suddenly in the bed chamber with his back to the bed. He is fighting viciously with another figure. John has pushed the captain against the headboard and turns to face whatever is happening, his body blocking the captain’s as much as possible. He watches as the Grib (he thinks this one is Sam) uses his huge polydactyl hands to grab the arms of his smaller adversary, effectively pinning what John believes is a human by his own arms.

But this adversary is not human. A long tail lashes out of the back of his trousers and John only sees the hint of a gleam of metal before a blade is lodged in the Grib’s throat to the hilt. John cries out something incoherent and tackles the being to the ground, completely incoherent of being naked at this point.

Above him, the Grib has managed to grasp the blade sunk deep into his throat. The captain moves to his side and places one hand over the Grib’s. He closes his eyes sadly as the buried blade glows bright gold. He looks to the Grib and holds his shoulders as his protector struggles to breathe. Sam looks deep into the captain’s eyes and the captain watches the last light slowly fade from his. He is unaware of the tears streaming down his face.


	14. Honors

Maria, Tony, Charlie and Bruce come through the wrecked doorway at a trot. Instantly Maria sizes up the situation, turns away from the scene and pulls out her e-book. Charlie and Bruce help John to his feet and take away the murderous alien. John grabs his trousers off the floor and slips them on as he is walking towards the captain.

Captain Holmes sits on the bed, holding his dead friend. John reaches over and softly closes Sam’s eyes. Charlie and Bruce come back and look down at their fallen brother silently. They carefully and reverently pick up their brother and carry him from the room, leaving John and Sherlock alone. John sits down behind the captain and folds the taller man into his arms. He turns his face into John’s neck and weeps. The sound of it hits John’s heart in places he is unaware that he possesses. He is at once empathetic to his lover’s loss and angry that the captain’s trust has been breached a second time. He is now personally attached to the case.

Maria returns to the bed chamber and gives the captain a long, sad look. She is hurt by Sam’s murder, as well. The captain does not move from where he is, however, so she tells John that she has alerted the Interplanetary Alliance and the Admiral. Consequently, the Admiral will be visiting the ship sometime in the next twelve hours. John knows that the captain hears the whole conversation because his muscles grow tense under John’s hands.

John nods and thanks Maria. She says that Charlie and Bruce will return shortly and in the meantime she is posting guards outside the door until maintenance can get up to this deck and repair it.

“Do you need anything?” She asks quietly.

“Captain, do you need anything?” John doesn’t try to get Sherlock to move. He gets a bit of mumble at his neckline.

“Can you send us up something to drink? I did not catch the name of the wine we were drinking at lunch, would that be acceptable?” Sherlock nods and sniffs; a strangely childlike sound.

“Yes, it can be sent up.” Maria looks down at the captain one more time and seems to consider reaching out to comfort him, but decides against it and leaves the room.

After a time, Sherlock stirs and gets himself back together. By the time the bottle of wine arrives, he and John are sitting in the small lounge area in a couple of comfortable chairs and there’s a fire crackling beside them. Neither man is speaking much, but they are content to allow the other his space, but neither of them has made a move to leave. The waiter is an average-sized man with a pleasant, open face who smiles gently at the two men as he serves the wine. Only after John and Sherlock take their first sip does he slip out, his job done.

They finish their drinks and the captain holds the bottle out to John. As he pours, the sound of soft footsteps fills the room. The Admiral glides in and pulls over a chair from the desk so that his sits facing them, with their chairs in a circle.

John quickly relates the story and as he is finishing his narrative, notices that Charlie and Bruce are standing in the doorway listening. The captain invites them in with a gesture and the cross the room to stand behind his chair, each Grib placing a hand on the captain’s shoulder. John is completely unaware of the grieving motions of this race, so he will take his cues from the captain.

Admiral Holmes says very little while John talks; only nodding where appropriate to show that he is listening intently. The ship’s maintenance crew arrives, fixes the door and leaves. The three men are quiet, the Gribs so much so that it is relatively easy to forget they are even present, until the captain talks to them in their own language. After a few exchanges, the Gribs take their leave.

“There will be a funeral for Sam in twelve hours.” The captain speaks slowly as if coming out of a daze. John thinks that maybe he is. He studies the captain as he moves out of his chair and paces the room, lost in thought. When he does open his mouth again, his words are firm. “Sam will be given full military honors.”

“Sherlock, you cannot do that.” The Admiral states plainly.

“Yes, _Admiral_ , you will find out that I _can._ ” The captain has stopped directly in front of the Admiral’s seat, staring him down, almost willing him to argue.

“The IA board won’t like it, Sherlock. Your Gribs were never properly inducted…”

The captain leans down into his brother’s face. The Admiral looks up and puts both hands on his brother’s chest. He pushes back as he stands up. John is a bit stunned to see that the Admiral stands a good three inches above Sherlock’s head. He is also a bit broader through the shoulders, though his belly has a bit of softness missing in the lean captain.

John stays in his chair but watches the exchange closely. The Admiral strides forward while forcing the captain backwards. The captain is stopped by his own chair and as his rear-end hits the cushion. Now the Admiral is leaning over his brother. Sherlock’s face is turning red, but the Admiral looks as calm as ever.

“ _Little brother_.” He practically spits. His eyes are pinpoints of black. His hands bear down on the captain’s shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. Sherlock has no choice but to look up.

The Admiral’s voice is quietly venomous. “I have never had any problem making excuses for you. I have looked the other way more than once. I am entirely tolerant of how you wish to live your life.” He places one hand under the captain’s chin, forcing the captain’s eyes into his. John is absolutely mesmerized as is his lover.

“Like many of the other beings in your life, Sherlock, I have allowed you to bend and flaunt the laws. You are virtually untouched. I looked the other way when you brought the last three members of a vanishing race aboard your ship.” The Admiral takes a deep breath and returns his hand to Sherlock’s shoulder. The captain, to his credit, does not drop his gaze, but normal color is slowly returning to his face. He does not look so defiant now, but John can tell that the other man has put him in his place. Obviously, he has much to learn about the captain and his sibling.

“I will not allow you to give honors to a being who has not been properly inducted.” The Admiral lets go of his brother’s shoulders and moves back to take his own seat.

“What if I induct him posthumously?” The captain’s voice is quiet.

Admiral Holmes considers his words. He looks at his brother and John can see the pride shining in his eyes. John almost expects to hear him laugh or at least smile. His voice gives nothing away. “I do believe we can make that arrangement.”

The rest of the conversation returns to a normal level and soon the Admiral is escorted out by Bruce and Charlie to one of the guest rooms down the corridor. John decides it’s time to take his own leave and moves towards the door. The captain has neither moved nor spoken in several minutes.

“You don’t have to leave.”

John pauses and turns back towards the captain. He is sitting in his chair, his hands in his hair, elbows resting on his legs and he seems to be judiciously studying the carpet under his feet. He has unbuttoned his sapphire blue shirt completely and it hangs open on his thighs. He peeks up from under the mess of curls and John just about melts into the floor.

“Are you sure?”

“Do I seem like I would ever say anything to you that I don’t mean?”

“No.”

“I just.” Sherlock lets the sentence hang in the air between them. John understands   _I don’t want to be alone_ left off.

“Alright.” He moves to embrace the captain.

 o-o-o-o-o-o

Eight hours later, John is lying on his back in the captain’s bed watching as the captain buttons himself into his dress uniform. Sleep seems to have healed something within the other man and it was an interesting experience to wake up to those green eyes watching him carefully. John felt a soft kiss on his lips as the captain rolled out of bed. Another kiss was dropped on his forehead, followed by a drop of water from an errant curl when the captain finished his shower.

Now John has opened his eyes completely and he studies the captain. He is dressed in the usual black trousers and a deep purple shirt, complete with gleaming gold buttons. For once, his insignia sits in its proper place over his heart. He sits down on the edge of the bed to pull on his tall boots. He returns to the bathroom and a few moments later, just when John is considering getting up. The captain has managed to tame his hair into neat black waves.

“You are gorgeous.” The words just slip out of John’s mouth before he has time to consider them. Sea-green eyes turn to him. He patiently waits for the cutting reprimand.

The captain actually smiles and takes note of how John’s icy blue eyes shine with warmth behind them. For a split second, the captain is forcibly reminded of his brother’s eyes last night. He thrusts his shoulders back and puts his chin up. John laughs a little and goes in to make himself presentable. Sherlock watches him leave, appreciating the sight of such a well-built body.

o-o-o-o-o-o

The funeral takes place on the upper deck. Everyone is present. The ship is shut down to half power and it has returned to its orbit around Earth. The captain stands at a podium in front a very large casket, Charlie and Bruce beside him. His voice is strong and when he awards the posthumous induction, he turns to the brothers and grasps their hands in his own. They move toward the casket together and gently Charlie holds up his dead brother’s head so that Bruce can slip over the medal. People clap politely. Great silent tears rush down the cheeks of the massive Gribs.

The captain tells everyone about the discovery of the tiny Gribs and then talks about their loyalty. He tells the story of Sam’s bravery and how he saved his and John’s lives. (He leaves out the part where they are both naked, probably for John’s benefit.)

He completes the eulogy and several of the step up to say a few words about Sam. When at last everyone who wishes to speak is given their chance, he moves back to the podium with a little more to add.

“Sam, you were like a brother and a son to me. I will miss your strength and pleasant bearing. Wherever your next journey lies, I hope it will be a peaceful one.”

Captain Holmes steps down from the podium, turns his back on the crowd and snaps a crisp salute to his fallen comrade. Charlie and Bruce raise their hands in a similar gesture from behind the casket. At once, there is the sound of twenty-one gunshots reporting from around the deck.  There is not a dry eye among the congregation, including the captain.

The crowd moves away, a few stragglers remaining behind. Once the majority of the crew has returned to their jobs or quarters, the stragglers move forward to pick up the casket. Bruce and Charlie stop them, however and hoist the coffin on their own shoulders, walking it to the guard rail at the back of the deck and slowly pushing it out through a specially-made hole in the transparent cap. They remain at attention until the casket has floated out of sight.

The captain stands and watches the casket until it disappears. He, Admiral Holmes, John, Bruce and Charlie return to the captain’s office together for a private drink and to raise a toast to their comrade and brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Three chapters today. I'm sorry to anyone reading this. We will get back to the case soon and we will chase down the bastards who did this!


	15. Titles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ambassador John Watson?” John liked the way it sounded in his mouth. “Ambassador to what exactly?”
> 
> Sherlock actually laughs out loud. “Ambassador from me to the rest of the universe, John.” He rolls his eyes and John giggles. He holds John’s feet in his hands, slowly caressing his arches and ankles.

Captain Holmes all but drags John back to the captain’s quarters once they are alone again. He actually locks his newly refurbished door and shoves John up against hard. They have a go at each other’s mouths with teeth and tongues. Sherlock stops John with an arm across his neck and lets his hand wander down to John’s belt. His deft fingers find the little silver button and it slides to the floor. He laps at John’s mouth and kisses him with an intensity John never remembers experiencing before. John cannot control the groan that escapes from between his lips before Sherlock dives in again with his tongue at full tilt.

The captain shoves John’s trousers down and there he is, on his knees, his around John’s cock. John’s orgasm rocks through his body before he barely has time to think about what is happening. The captain stands up and wipes his mouth with one hand and John is almost hard again that quickly. John takes a deep breath and grabs the other man by the arm, leading him to his bed. He then proceeds to return the favor and they fall into a deep sleep in each others’ arms.

John opens his eyes two hours later and the first thing he sees is a mass of black curls. He tilts his head down and just inhales the other man’s spicy, musky scent and something else that he is sure the product he uses to tame down his hair. He wraps his arms around the lean shoulders and lies there enjoying the closeness. His mind wanders and he closes his eyes, not to sleep, but just to reflect on this new thing that he’s found. He would have never believed that he would have ended up here after all this time. It’s been a very long time since he was able to just let another person rest against his chest and relax against the sound of his heartbeat. It is a heady feeling.

He is brought out of his daydream a few moments later when Sherlock stirs. He lazily kisses John’s mouth and rolls off of him, headed in the direction of the loo. John waits his turn and then follows when the captain comes back out of the little room, still stark naked. As he brushes past, the captain runs his hand across John’s muscular chest. He does not say a word, but it isn’t necessary. All John has to do is look in the other man’s eyes and the answer is _right there_.

When he steps back into the bed chamber, Sherlock is laid out on the bed, flat on his back with his legs and arms spread wide. John thinks that he looks good enough to eat so he flops down right on top of him. Sherlock’s arms circle his waist and his mouth engulfs John’s. Sherlock digs his fingers into John’s buttocks and John returns the action, digging one hand into Sherlock’s scalp and the other into his shoulder blade. He alternately nips, sucks and bites the skin on the captain’s neck until purple love bites stand out in stark contrast to his skin. The only sounds the captain makes are small moans and breathy sighs.

John is absolutely amazed to find that he is completely aroused and ready for round two. This time it’s rough. When he grabs Sherlock’s hands and pins them above his head with one hand and the captain lets out a cock-busting moan, John loses himself completely in the lean, trembling body underneath him. He bites a line from Sherlock’s neck and down his chest, stopping to whip his tongue around each nipple. Sherlock moans and writhes, his thighs gripping John’s hips. John can feel the pull and tug of every muscle in the captain’s legs. It’s obvious at this point that they both want the same thing.

When John finally breaches Sherlock with his cock, he has to stop for a time and collect himself and try to clear his hazy vision. It keeps him from slamming into the man for all he’s worth. The thought is soon banished, however, when the captain’s back arches off the bed and his strong fingers leave bruises on John’s hips and buttocks. They are completely drunk on the feel of their bodies. John thinks this is one of the most remarkably intense things he’s ever done before slowly pushing into the tight heat as strong needy fingers bruise and pull at him.

John makes some incoherent mumbles and snaps his hips. By the time they both come, they are sweating and breathing like they have run twenty laps. John pulls out carefully and then drops his head down on the captain’s chest, his arms quivering from the strain of holding himself up. Sherlock holds onto him like a drowning man, his legs still tightly in place around John’s waist. He is as wrapped up around John as it is possible for one person to be around another and still allow them both the ability to respire. He does not say anything coherent just groans and stretches underneath John who rolls off of him slowly. Sherlock allows his legs to just drop to the bed with a thump. John lies on his side and puts one arm around the captain’s chest and once again succumbs to sleep; it’s his turn to relish in the sound of a steady heartbeat. A little worry nags him in the back of his mind but he quashes it, telling himself that they will talk soon.

“John.”

“John.”

“Sherlock?” John rolls over to find the captain standing by the bed, one hand on his shoulder.

“Dinner?” Sherlock leans himself down far enough to stare into John’s face. John reaches up with one hand and wipes his eyes. The captain is still naked but smells very clean and fresh as if he had just showered. John reaches up to his forehead and grabs a curl between his thumb and forefinger. The hair is soft, silky and rather damp.

“Starving.” He sits up and gets off the bed. “Just let me take a shower.”

The captain is uncharacteristically quiet when he answers “Alright. I’ll order. We can eat here.”

When John finishes his shower, he is greeted with the smell of something delicious wafting through the door. He reaches out to the towel rack and pulls a pair of soft black yoga trousers off of the shelf which naturally fit him like a glove. No point in putting on a shirt when he is positive that the captain is most likely starkers.

Upon entering the sitting area, however, he’s glad he chose the trousers over the buff. The captain sits in one chair with a tray on his lap, which is covered by a thick blue towel that hangs down to his knees. The Admiral has planted himself in the chair next to his brother. He has nothing in his lap but his hands. The two of them are pointedly _not_ looking at each other. John considers them for a moment, sees another silver covered tray on the side table and decides that it is not his argument to get into. He pulls up another chair and tucks into a large ham and cheese sandwich.

After a time, the Admiral takes his leave, somehow locking the door back behind him. It does not look to John as if they have accomplished anything, but Sherlock has uncovered his tray and is starting in on his own meal. They eat in companionable silence until the captain stands up and carefully places his tray on the chair he just vacated. It is when he is again sitting on his knees in front of John that John feels that now is the time to talk. He sets his tray down in the floor beside his chair and pulls Sherlock into him by the shoulders. This time their touches are soft and caressing. The captain finally rocks back on his heels and John takes his chance.

“Sherlock, are you okay?” John hopes that he doesn’t sound too wishy-washy, but he wants to express that he is concerned.

Sherlock shakes his head and leans into John’s chest. John runs a hand over his forehead, through his hair and down his back before he gets a reply. “I think that I am sad, John.”

John frowns a little. Oh. “Ah. About Sam. That was a wonderful thing that you did for him, though.”

“I wanted everyone to see how much he meant to me.” The captain does not elaborate.

John waits patiently. By now he knows that the captain is not going to say anymore than he wants to and not before he’s ready.

“I always wait until it’s too late.” The captain’s voice is strong in its conviction. John has nothing to go on, so he falls back on silence. John continues to rub his back and wonders how Sherlock’s current position can be in any way comfortable. He has long since lost his towel.

“I want to do something for you, too, John. I want to give you honor and a title. I want to show how much you mean to me before it’s too late.”

John is caught off guard but quickly regains his composure. “Captain, you know that I am probably helplessly falling for you, but I’m not sure we are quite ready for such a step…”

Sherlock interrupts him by sitting back and dropping his butt to the floor. He crosses his legs, looking like he is about to enter deep meditation with his palms up and arms resting on his arms. He looks up at John, his green eyes soft and clear.

“Eventually, I am sure.” John’s heart jumps into his throat. “But that is not what I mean at this point. I gave Charlie and Bruce titles, they are both Ensigns now. It meant so much to them to finally being accepted for all these years of loyalty. But you…”

“Sherlock, I don’t expect it. I don’t need IA recognition to prove my loyalty to you.”

“It was so fast, was it not, John?” The captain states the unusual in such a simple matter, there is nothing for John to argue.

“Aye Captain, it was.” He nods to Sherlock. There really isn’t anything else he can say. It’s the most unusual thing to have ever happened to him as well as the most pleasing, promising and wonderful. He feels like he could dive into Sherlock’s eyes. It would probably feel like walking through the Time Gate naked and blindfolded.

“My brother said the same thing about our relationship. I tried to tell him that time was irrelevant. When you know, you know.” Sherlock says in an off-hand manner. John is absolutely gobsmacked. What a way to say you fell for someone the second you laid eyes on them! At least now he understood the completely unspoken argument that was happening whilst he showered.

John’s brain is spinning. All he can reply is: “That was amazing, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrow slightly, the only reaction to the compliment apparent on his features. “So I have thought of another solution. I don’t believe with your history that you would accept a military title, am I wrong?” He cocks an eyebrow.

John thought about that for a minute as he watches Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock is absolutely correct. There were some things that it simply just _hurt_ to think about right now. He nodded.

“I thought so. Would you accept _Ambassador_?” Sherlock bit his bottom lip but never broke their eye contact.

“Ambassador John Watson?” John liked the way it sounded in his mouth. “Ambassador to what exactly?”

Sherlock actually laughs out loud. “Ambassador from me to the rest of the universe, John.” He rolls his eyes and John giggles. He holds John’s feet in his hands, slowly caressing his arches and ankles.

“No. That’s ridiculous.” John smiles.

“Actually, the whole title is some silly thing like Ambassador of the Interplanetary Alliance for Further Exploration of the Time Gate and Best Lover to Captain Holmes in the Universe.”

John starts laughing. “I can believe the parts up until you get past the Time Gate, but the rest is a bit premature!” He had not had a good laugh in quite some time and it was even better when Sherlock joined in. John gently falls forward until he’s in the captain’s lap, facing him, his dinner forgotten. They are both still laughing when they start kissing, taking advantage of the moment.

When they finally fall back into the captain’s bed a couple of hours later, all tangled in each other, John’s clothes and personal effects had been delivered to the captain’s room in an effort to expedite their journey next day.

The Admiral slowly closes the door. Part of him wants to just let Sherlock be happy for a time, but there is so much at stake and these two are possibly the last hope.


	16. History

Captain Holmes and the newly-named Ambassador Watson stand calmly next to each other regarding the Time Gate coolly as the bright white light from their transport dissipates around them. Professor Royburn is safely ensconced in his lab on the _Neo-_ Tethys, monitoring their signals.

In silence, they clasp hands and move forward up the trio of steps to the portal. They step over the threshold as one and find themselves back in the stone lobby. This time no one approaches them out of curiosity or malice. John shakes his head lightly to clear his mind of the images sent to him by the portal. The images are getting weaker each time he has approached the device, but they still have some sting behind them. The captain has been through the Time Gate enough times now that it is always the same. John fully trusts him to get them through this in one piece.

When they awoke wrapped in each others’ arms a few hours ago, Sherlock had taken the time to explain just _who_ he thought was behind the most recent murders. John had been a bit surprised and was still finding himself pondering the situation. All they had to do now was track down the perpetrators and then they could move on.

Of course, things like that always sound much simpler than they really are, John thought to himself as he follows the captain down a corridor. They pass through a door and find themselves standing on the same hillside they had been on before. Juno II looks much as it did, if anything the bazaar is busier. As they walk side-by-side following a trail that winds around the hillside, the captain starts talking.

“John, the original purpose of the Time Gate was to give beings the ability to move from other planets and times for study; so naturally, someone found a way to exploit it.”

“Yeah, I remember that. It cost more than what my parents paid for their home to purchase an eight-hour ticket.”

“Correct.” Sherlock is six years younger than John, so he doesn’t remember it as clearly, though he has years of study on his side. “It was after it was opened up for ‘public’ use, which we both know really meant the ultra-rich, that the first Travelers came through.”

They wind down the path and John stumbles a little on a rocky patch, going down on one knee. Sherlock reaches out for his arm and helps steady him. John brushes off his trousers and they continue their hike.

“Yeah, I remember the Travelers. It’s thanks to them that the only family I have still living is my sister.” John says with a rough tone in his voice.

Sherlock studies him for a few seconds. John has never really spoken of his family before. He is seriously interested, but they have more immediate things to discuss right now. “Yes. It was with the second wave of the Travelers when the scientists discovered a big problem with that alien race.”

They are finally down the hill. Sherlock drops down into an exceptionally green patch of grass beside the trail and makes himself comfortable. John follows suit. It is a rather nice day here and it’s been ages since he’s been able to just sit and enjoy some sunshine, even if it does come from dual suns.

“You have to understand the way humans were feeling in the late 23rd century. They were ecstatic. People on Earth had finally put their weapons down and it was a time of posterity, just like what the century before had been for this planet.” He gestures around them.

“Humans _finally_ understood that they were all part of the same family and that there was only one race on the planet: _Homo sapiens_. Why it took so long is probably the nature of the species. They accepted that people would make mistakes, that there would be disagreements and two people may never see the same thing in the same way.” With this, he holds out a hand to John. John takes it. “Apparently, we are really lucky, John. A few centuries ago and you and I would have been persecuted for something this simple.” He raises their hands to his lips and places a soft kiss on the back of John’s hand.

 He continues. “When people finally had real _proof_ that the aliens they had dreamed of for so long were in fact _real_ , there was a time of celebrating. I have been told that people even climbed to the tops of the tallest buildings in the biggest cities with banners and all sorts of flags and signs and had ‘welcome’ parties. I’ve seen videos of some of the celebrations and they were occasionally very _wild_.” John snickers; he remembers watching some of those during long history lectures in grade school. Everyone thought they were ridiculous, aliens and humans alike.

“So, as you know, the majority of the earliest alien races to make contact with humanity were genuinely interested in peaceful relations with our species. They were also those who were the most similar to humans in their biology and physiology. In typical human fashion, the aliens were just known as “Aliens” and humans just “humans,” though there were many similar races of both species. The Aliens often had technology that humans had only dreamt of and humans were able to teach them a myriad of skills, such as farming the soil, and much simpler things such as this.” He holds their hands up again, but he’s not talking about sex directly. He is talking about the healing power of touch.

“Most of the races had advanced so far technologically and so quickly that they left some of the more mundane creature comforts behind. When they came to Earth, they rediscovered what they had been missing. Some of them fell in love with humans and settled on the planet. New laws were created and more acceptances took place. My own mother is a third-generation hybrid.”

John nodded and then looked up into the captain’s face. That explained the glow of the poisoned knife blade. He also thought that might explain what the Telom tried to tell him before he managed to knock her out. He really didn’t care what family tree Sherlock came from. It did not matter, it would never matter to him.

“It was good, though. It was a tradeoff. We all taught each other something. Sure, there were still disagreements between peoples and countries, but things were changing. People stopped seeing themselves as part of a single world and more as part of a _universe_. It was the most life-changing event for humans since the advent of the Internet and the discovery of a worldwide community, not just a local one.” He sits back and uncrosses his legs, leaning back on his arms. John mirrors his position as he watches a winged insect bob up and down between some white flowers not far from where they are sitting.

Sherlock is gazing out into the distance but John knows his mind is probably even farther away. “The Travelers were the first alien race to appear hostile to the humans and other Aliens. And of course, they did not appear until after the Time Gate was invented, built, experimented on and then finally opened. The Time Gate was invented by humans and aliens alike and was supposed to have been a way to study the past so that we could all learn about the future.

The truth of it, however, turns out that it actually _reads_ what some beings want and supplies it for them. There are very few beings, John, who can use it for its intended purpose. You, Professor Royburn and I are three of them.”

John thinks it over. He well remembers the first images the portal had shown him, including the hot scene with Sherlock and the antique motorbike. “It even shows you images that you _could_ desire, though you may not even be aware of it.”

“Correct. Some of what you saw that first day were probably images of things you didn’t even know you wanted, though many of them were certainly from your past.”

John nods and sits up, crossing his legs. “It also reminded me of the alien wars: the ones that occurred after the Traveler’s appeared. It was during that time that I enlisted, thinking we were fighting for universal peace and freedom.”

The captain waits patiently to see if John is going to add to his statement. John is silent, however, so Sherlock goes on with the lesson. “So it was that when the second wave of Travelers came through the portal—and there were thousands of them---that over half of them died before ever getting out of the lobby, though some lasted until they entered the room where the Time Gate was housed. They were weak and some were hideously deformed. Some of the scientists died within minutes, some of them lasted hours, at least one lived an entire day afterward, but it was at that point that they tried to shut the Time Gate down.”

John finishes the sentence, “and that’s when the first war started.”

“Yes. The war started with the Tyots figured out how to bottle up the disease that was killing the Travelers and pass it through our universe. They felt that they were being cut out of the wealth of our universe by the closing of the Time Gate. The question, of course, is why only they, of all the races that had come before and would come later, took it so personally.”

The captain stands and knocks some of the dirt off of his glossy boots. They start back down the trail, walking a bit slower this time so Sherlock can talk. He uses his hands as much as his voice and John is halfway hypnotized. “The Tyots basically said ‘screw all of you, we want our cut’ and at that point, some of the other nasty species were sent through while the portal was unguarded. It was unguarded because there was so much clean-up to be done after the last wave of Travelers. Things just went downhill from there.” John closes his eyes against the memory of a huge bird and reptile-like alien scaling the side of an apartment building. He gains control of himself rapidly. His job is to protect the captain, not fall apart at the seams. There will be time for this later.

They have arrived at the bazaar. Sherlock is once again moving through the haphazard aisles of wares and stalls, his head moving from side to side slowly as he scans faces. John rolls his shoulders a little, glad that he remembered to drop his little weapon in his trouser pocket before they left the _Neo-Tethys_.


	17. Jewel's Light

“Ah.” Sherlock says as he makes a beeline for a stall that looks no different to John than all the rest of them. John trots behind him, only a few steps away, by the time he catches up with the tall captain, however, Sherlock is already quietly speaking to a short, think purple-skinned alien. John has no idea what race the alien being is part of, so he just takes it all in stride. Sherlock’s deep voice is precisely speaking a strange, guttural language. The alien is alternately opening and closing his three-fingered hands, seemingly making a conversational point here and there.

John moves so that his back is to the captain and looks around the bazaar, his eyes roving the multi-faceted crowd for any apparent danger to Sherlock or himself. He studies the green awnings and tablecloths, the light tan wood of the stools and bars all around. A lull in the conversation behind him catches his attention and he turns back to the captain. The purple-skinned being is holding something white and sparkling in one of his hands. Sherlock reaches for it and holds it up to the suns’ light.

It is a jewel of some type, its facets catching the lights around it and throwing off blues, pinks, and an odd golden light that John recognizes from when Sherlock grabbed the knife the Telom was attempting to stab him with. The golden light spreads before them as if someone had just turned on a heavy-duty MAG lite and pointed it in their direction. The light dances about them as if it is something living, even in the bright daylight.

Sherlock catches John’s eye and gives him a wonderful smile, lips curved over his teeth. John fights the ever-present urge to grab the taller man by the shoulders and kiss him senseless. In that instant the light changes from golden to a deep blue. Sherlock raises an eyebrow and John just stares at it all. He does not completely understand what just happened, but he is pretty sure Sherlock is. As is the alien that is now staring up at him from its stool with wide eyes; it seems there is a universal look for “wow” and it’s apparent now.

Sherlock closes his palm over the shiny jewel and slips it into the pocket of his black trousers. He gives a slight wink to John, going back to his almost-undecipherable conversation with the alien. After a short while, Sherlock pulls several paper slips out of his pocket (John considers that Sherlock’s pockets must be never-ending) and hands them to the alien who makes a sound that John’s certain is a giggle. The captain claps him on the shoulder as he walks by and John falls into step beside him.

“What is that thing?”

The captain considers his words for a moment. “It’s like a truth serum, John. In this case, the gold light shows me what it’s capable of. White light is neutral, blue light is positive, and if the light fades completely, well that means we need to get out of the situation rather fast.”

John nods as he takes it all in. “Okay.” He thinks over how the light turned blue when it touched him. “So that means I’m no danger to you?” He sneaks a look up at the captain through his eyelashes.

The captain makes a deep chuckle in his chest. “Only as dangerous as you would like to be, Ambassador.”

Naturally (and is in all good fanfiction) the deep sound of Sherlock’s chuckle vibrating in his muscular chest stirs something hungry in John’s body. He stops in his tracks and reaches out to grab the captain’s shirt. He pulls him backwards and reaches up both hands to pull the captain’s face to his. He will never see anything as wonderful as Sherlock smiling into his face before their lips meet.

They sway together on the spot, Sherlock’s hands on John’s waist and John’s around the captain’s neck, fingers slowly running through the neat curls on his nape. The captain is making an interesting humming noise in his throat as their tongues wrestle for dominance between the two mouths. It’s so intense that they have almost forgotten their surroundings.

A high-pitched whine and a _thunk_ at their feet brings them around fast. John yanks the captain down to the ground and drops to his knees, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He aims it towards the sound but sees nothing. Things go back to reasonably peaceful after a few heartbeats and he helps Sherlock off of the ground. They stand back-to-back for a moment and look around. There’s the sound of heavy breathing and Sherlock gives John no time to react, he simply states “Run.” In the next second, their boots are pounding the hard ground and they are moving as far away from the bazaar as they are capable.

As he’s running, Sherlock is pulling the jewel back out of his pocket and holding his hand out in front of him, palm up. John has to concentrate on where he’s going so he only takes a quick look before he is plunging head first through a blinding white light.

Everything is silent, white noise. Sherlock stands beside him, one hand on John’s shoulder. He is still so John copies the lack of action. A very large being runs right past them, huge muscular legs with equally huge feet making _thudding_ noises on the ground. They can feel the ground tremble beneath their feet, but the massive being cannot see nor hear them. It stops after a few paces and turns back, walking slowly and moving its head from side to side, searching.

John looks up at the captain, but Sherlock shakes his head and places a finger to his own lips. His eyes tell John to wait. They watch the huge alien as it walks past them again, shaking its own head from side to side. John is reminded strongly of a hound that has lost its prey. The being finally stalks away from them, back the way it came. Sherlock closes his fingers around the jewel and it disappears again. John lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“That was close.” His hand is still wrapped around his weapon; apparently it has yet to get the memo that they are safe, for the moment.

“You didn’t ask if there was anything else the jewel could do.” The captain states as he starts walking.

John chuckles and moves into stride beside the captain.

o-o-o-o-o-o

They wander for over an hour, slowly going uphill as they walk. The exercise really isn’t a strain on either one of them, but they are silent nonetheless. John has a pretty good idea that things are going to get even more dangerous from here on out. He works out some scenarios in his mind, but they always end with his protecting the captain. So far so good.

Captain Holmes, however, is working through various scenarios where he spectacularly fails to protect his companion. He is growing more irritated with every step. He finally stops in the middle of nowhere and huffs. He straightens up his shirt and trousers, even patting some of the road dust off of himself. He stares John down for a moment, seems to make some sort of decision then smiles a little and they continue on their way.

John just grins to himself at the captain’s odd behavior. He wants to ask what’s going on in the magnificent mind, but knows he will be rebuffed. It’s probably better just to let it go at this point.

“Captain, do we have lodgings for the night, or…” he gestures around them at the fields that line the dirt road.

“No, we are not camping. We will have a bed for the night here in just a few moments.” John’s eyes follow the captain’s hand as he gestures in the direction they are walking. “Our luggage should have preceded us, if the Professor’s device is working properly.”

They continue on for a little while longer until they reach a building that seems to be a large, square hut. It is the same brown color as the dirt road they have been following, but its windows are large and welcoming. There is a large sign over the door with a word in a language John doesn’t recognize, though he is positive it is some sort of motel or boarding house.

It turns out his hunch is right on both counts. A human woman is working at the counter when they walk up. Her blue eyes light up when she looks at the captain, though she only gives the smallest glance in John’s direction. Without asking any questions, she pulls a key off of the peg board behind her and holds it out to the captain. His long fingers reach out and grasp it and she takes his hand in both of her own, gazing into his face with a searing attention.

Sherlock never misses a beat, but kisses one of her hands and gently works his fingers loose. He lays his arm over John’s shoulders and pulls him closer.

“Mable, this is mypartner, Ambassador John Watson.” Mable takes a step back from the counter and her eyes harden just a little, though she does hold out a friendly hand to John. John follows Sherlock’s example and presses his lips to the woman’s hand. She gives a girlish giggle and smiles.

“You have done well for yourself,Captain.” She purrs at him, winking.

Sherlock actually does not have an answer for that, but asks her simply “Has anything arrived for me?”

“Yes. Your luggage is upstairs in your room. I also had some cold trays prepared and sent up for you. Since you are back in this Quadrant, I figured it was on some kind of investigation.” She slips into professional mode. John appreciates it.

The captain gives her his thanks, smiles gratefully and gently pulls John towards the huge staircase that runs behind the counter.

“Oh, and Captain,” Mable calls from where she has turned towards a com-screen. “The stars will be out tonight. The doors to the roof are open.”

The captain does not answer her, but there is a little more energy in his step as they bound up the stairs.

“She’s calling the Admiral, you know, he’s got spies everywhere.” The captain snarls a bit as he unlocks the door to their room.

“In this case, they may come in handy, Sherlock.” John quips as he steps through the door, the memory of the huge alien from earlier today still fresh in his mind.

He takes stock of the place, his eyes falling on the huge four-poster bed, complete with a canopy. It’s all done in a heavy, dark wood. There are two windows in the room on the north wall, they are not large and up high so that they have all the privacy they need. There is a small round table in one corner with two chairs. A slit in the center of the table marks the com-screen. He notices with a grimace that the screen is powering up.

Within seconds, the Admiral is greeting both of them. John tries to give the Admiral his undivided attention, but Sherlock, standing just outside the range of the tiny screen, is slowly and meticulously removing his clothing, staring at his partner with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. John clears his throat and reluctantly tears his eyes away. This is his life now. Almost being killed by some alien bar-bouncer type one minute and almost being seduced by a gorgeous IA Captain the next. He sighs and attempts to pay attention to the call.

“Captain, it would probably be wise for you to listen, even if you are naked.” The Admiral announces from the screen. It doesn’t seem to have the swivel function like the ones on the ship, but John is surprised that the Admiral called Sherlock’s actions so well.

“John, it is obvious from the expression on your face and your trousers that my brother is doing something to keep your attention on him, and since I don’t hear him flouncing about, I am assuming he is attempting a strip-tease.” The Admiral seems to have crossed his arms in front of himself and has come pretty close to a pretty spectacular huff himself in imitation of his little brother.

John puts his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. Sherlock is glaring at him over the back of the com-screen. He comes around it to where John is standing, completely naked. His brother groans.

“Really, Sherlock?” Admiral Holmes is now staring directly into his brother’s eyes. “Fine. We shall get this over with quickly. Number one, there are native clothes for both of you in the suitcase. Number two, I am not so concerned with you two blending in as I am with protecting you, so you will also find a pair of cloaks to wear about your persons whilst you travel. Number three, and this one is absolutely non-negotiable: DO NOT lose the jewel.” He says nothing else, only powering down his end of the communication.

Sherlock snickers and walks over to the table, taking the covers off of two large food trays. One is covered with what John is pretty sure is some sort of sliced meat and cheese, and the other is heavily laden with several kinds of fruit, berries and nuts. A pitcher of a clear liquid and two glasses sit behind the trays. The captain, never bothering to even put on a towel, sits down in one of the chairs. John takes the other. As they dine, Sherlock’s chair gets closer and closer to John’s until the captain is almost in John’s lap. As it is, Sherlock’s long legs are stretched out over John’s thighs, his feet in John’s lap. Occasionally a toe gently strokes John’s abdomen.

“This is fun.” John laughs a little, fingers closing over the captain’s ankles. He takes a deep swallow of his drink and wonders if what he is imbibing is alcoholic.

“It’s not fermented, John.” Sherlock runs a foot up John’s chest. John is slowly getting used to the idea that it seems the captain can read his mind. Right now he has other things to worry about though, as a rather long foot is nuzzling against his groin. He has completely given up eating and is slowly massaging the captain’s legs. He stares at the wiggling toes for a moment and then holds up a foot and runs his tongue down the length of it.

The captain just stares, his mouth wide open and hand in the air holding his glass. John, liking this reaction does it a second time. The captain sets his glass on the table, takes his legs out of John’s lap and is on his knees in front of John in a fraction of a second. From the floor, he leans up and they kiss, slowly liking at each other’s lips. Sherlock leans into the other man and John runs his hands down his naked back. He cannot quite reach the captain’s buttocks, so he pulls him tighter. The captain pulls back just a little and they watch each other carefully. He slowly palms the erection in John’s trousers and laughs a little when John groans. He leans down and playfully nuzzles the spot in John’s lap where his toes were a short time ago.

John grasps the back of the captain’s head, cupping the back of the other man’s skull gently but with a firm intent. The captain clicks the button on John’s belt and works his erection out of his flies. He leans down and places a tiny kiss right on the head of John’s penis. John hisses through his teeth and tightens his grip on the captain’s skull, his hand only asking a question, not giving an order. The captain slowly swirls his tongue around John’s straining cock, listening for the right time. John moans loudly, reaching down and grasping the base of his member. He pumps slowly and smoothly while the captain sucks and teases the head. Finally, just before he comes, the captain leans down and engulfs John’s cock completely. John’s legs kick out straight around the captain’s body as he falls into the rolling sensation of his orgasm. The captain continues to suck and lick as John rolls through it. He lets John’s cock slip through his lips, waits until John is looking him in the eyes and swallows the mouthful of come. John groans again and pulls the captain’s face upward. He does not kiss the captain, but runs his tongue along the other man’s lips, tasting himself and Sherlock’s saliva at the same time.

The captain goes back to his knees and rests his head on John’s muscular thighs. Once the haze clears a bit, John asks if he can return the favor. “You will, John, but not right now. I want to show you something.”

John stands on wobbly legs as the captain locks their bedroom door and moves towards the tiny bathroom. He reaches up and presses a hidden button then steps back as a ladder slowly drops out of the ceiling.

“Will you grab that cloak for me?” The captain watches the ladder until it hits the floor. John gets one of the two cloaks that are hanging on hooks on the back of the bedroom door and slips it around the captain’s slender shoulders. It falls right back off as he climbs upward. John loops the cloak around his neck, noting the soft feel of velvet as he climbs up.

They step off the ladder onto a small, flat rooftop. Sherlock reaches over and takes the cloak from John, pulling it over his arms and shoulders, but leaving it open. He wanders over to where a pair of long, low chairs sits next to a small table. There is a bright orange vase filled with red flowers on it. Out of curiosity, John leans in and takes a deep whiff of the flowers. They remind him strongly of fresh strawberries. The captain drops gracefully down into one of the chairs and holds out a hand, inviting John to join him. John stretches his legs out in front of him and grasps the offered hand. He studies Sherlock’s face for a moment and follows his partner’s line of sight towards the sky.

The suns are just setting so that the sky is streaked with orange, pink, gold, and a deep midnight blue. They sit in silence as the deep blue slowly turns to black. They turn towards each other and catch their mouths in a deep, needy kiss. After a few moments, they break apart and the inky sky is completely filled with tiny gold and silver stars.

“It’s beautiful, Sherlock. Thank you.” John kneels at the captain’s side and lays a palm on his naked chest, pulling open the cloak a fraction. He slowly caresses the warm bare skin and leaves a soft kiss over where he can feel his partner’s heartbeat. Sherlock’s reflex is to wrap his arms around John and pull him tighter. John obliges by moving his mouth to the captain’s neck where he teases a bit with his tongue and then biting down when he feels Sherlock’s arms tighten around his body.

The captain sucks in a breath through his teeth and tightens his hold. John nips and worries the skin between his teeth, alternating sharp bites and licks. He reaches under the folds of the cloak to stroke the captain’s hardening member. The captain’s hip buck forward and John turns his ministrations to his partner’s needy cock. He doesn’t tease in the same way the captain does, though he is careful to take his time with the blow job. Finally, just before the captain comes, John carefully squeezes his balls. The captain bucks upward, almost choking the ambassador, but John is nonplussed, pushing him back down into the chair with the other arm. The captain throws his head back and is almost growling at the stars. John pulls his mouth away but continues to stroke the captain’s straining cock as he ejaculates, pulsing with each movement of his partner’s fingers.

John lazily kisses the captain who attempts to take control and deepen the kiss by nipping his lips. John smiles and pulls away, he moves quickly down the ladder and then reappears with a clean towel in his hand. He cleans up the captain’s mess and then pulls the cloak closed over his chest. He pushes the chairs as close together as they will go and then leans back next to the captain. They nap that way in the cooling air of the night for a short time, their hands clasped between them.

It seems to have been only minutes when the captain is shaking John awake and asking him if he would rather finish out the night in a bed. John agrees and follows him down into the room, shivering just a little from the coolness of the air. He undresses quickly and falls into the plush bed beside the captain. The captain rolls to his side and John presses up against him, one arm over his waist and the other under his head.

John is awoken later by a heavy thud and a crash. He is instantly alert and bolts upright in the bed to find that the captain is gone. He moves silently towards the bedroom door and grabs the other cloak to cover himself. He listens: the noise is coming from the roof. In the dim light from the windows, he can see that the ladder to the roof has been pulled back down out of its hiding place. He rushes up it.

When John gets to the roof, it is to witness a struggle already in progress. The captain is toe-to-toe with two beings, a human and the huge alien from this afternoon. He stuns the human just as John enters the fray and John watches the man fall to the deck, limp. Sherlock catches his eye and makes an almost imperceptible nod towards the massive alien who seems confused that another person has seemingly appeared from nowhere. He finally seems to make a decision because he lowers his head like a charging rhino and rushes right towards Sherlock. Sherlock gracefully spins on his bare feet and watches as the alien plunges off of the roof. There is a sickening squelch and a thud as he hits the hard ground.

John heads towards Sherlock’s side, quickly checking him over. Just as they both move to check on the human attacker, Sherlock is taken out by a blow to the knees. As he falls, John rushes the man, pinning him to the deck. He bucks and squirms and curses, trying anything and everything to get the shorter man off of him. After a moment, he goes still and John turns to see what is happening to the captain.

The man is well trained in dirty fighting and quickly forces John off of him. Once again, he rushes Sherlock and John grabs for his legs. It’s too late. The man has covered the small distance between them and now has Sherlock in a hold, but his feet are still moving. With a growing horror as he attempts to get at the captain, John watches Sherlock and his attacker plunge over the edge of the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following along!


	18. Dark Justice

John feels his heart stutter and stop. Through some miracle, it actually starts again and he sees Sherlock going over the roof in slow motion. He sees his own hand as it reaches out towards him, then his head is spinning. He falls to his knees, cradling his head in his hands. For a few moments there is the strongest feeling that he should have seen this coming-a strange sense of _déjà-vu_ , he should have been better prepared, should not have let himself sleep, should have considered all of the alternatives…

Then there is the tiniest sound. John almost misses it in the chaos that is dragging down his mind. For a half second, he is pretty sure his ears are playing tricks on him. There it is again: a faint scraping noise. He rushes in the direction of the sound and peers over the flat edge of the roof.

Captain Holmes is hanging by his fingertips and kicking out with his legs trying to dislodge his attacker. John is at once elated and terrified. He knows as soon as he gets them both back up here the captain’s attacker is going to attempt to finish the job. He considers the ramifications for a moment and then reaches down and grasps Sherlock’s hands, slowly pulling him up. Up until now, Sherlock has been busy looking down at the man clinging to his legs, but he finally looks up at John and says thank you in a breathy, almost too-quiet voice.

It is a strange scene, John thinks as he pulls Sherlock up. He leaves the taller man’s legs hanging just over the edge, hoping that it will give them some control over the attacker. He holds Sherlock’s hands, waiting on the thug to climb back up. The captain is quiet, keeping his head down. He seems instinctively to know what John is attempting to do. He realizes that sometimes, even in heat of battle, one needs to trust.

John waits, watching Sherlock’s legs tremble as the would-be killer pulls himself up. In an instant, John has let go the captain’s hands and grabbed the thug’s arms, once again pinning him to the ground. This time he doesn’t let go. The captain rolls over onto his back and gingerly pulls himself into a sitting position. He takes stock quickly and then is down the ladder and back in a flash. He is holding John’s weapon and hands it to the other man. John relaxes his hold just enough so that Sherlock can search the thug, keeping his weapon aimed at the man’s temple.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asks.

“Fuck you.” The thug states from underneath John.

John raises his eyebrows up at Sherlock. Sherlock leans down and plants a kiss right on the top of John’s head while pulling his cloak around his body. John is so relieved that his partner is alive and well he has to keep himself in the moment.

“I could just knock him out, yeah?”

Sherlock shakes his head. “I called for help and I still need answers.”

The thug bucks up once and almost unseats John. Sherlock takes note and gives the man a swift kick in the ribs for his efforts. Though he is barefoot, John notes a snapping sound when the captain’s foot makes contact. The attacker grunts and groans a little. Sherlock draws his foot back for another kick just as the man mumbles something indistinct. He stops mid-kick and places his bare foot right above the attacker’s rib cage, beside John’s thigh. He presses down with just his toes and the man squirms but doesn’t cry out. The captain presses a little harder, this time also using the ball of his foot. This time the man does scream. Sherlock backs off, placing his feet together on the ground.

“Who are you?” He asks for the second time. He still sounds a little breathy, but his demeanor is composed.

There’s a mumbling sound and the thug attempts to raise his head. Sherlock reaches down and presses on the back of it, effectively pushing the thug’s face into the wooden decking. The captain is not patient and it is taking all of his control to simply not slam the man’s face into said decking and possibly break his nose, or worse.

“I am only going to ask one more time. I know you are human, I know that you are entirely too stupid to have planned this on your own. You are working for some other being and you had to have been _let in_ …” Sherlock trails off a little, considering that perhaps Mable wasn’t as much on his side as he would like.

“I…” the thug tries to raise his head again and this time Sherlock accidentally lets his hand slip a little hard, giving him a nice bruise for his efforts. John can feel the anger coming off of him in hot waves. “Goddammit!” The thug yells, his voice partially obscured by the fact his lip has been split by the wood underneath it. “I can’t talk like this. I am telling you nothing, your stupid bitch friend let me in the door once I gave it to her a little rough. She’s that kind of bitch, you know. You shouldn’t have left…”

This time Sherlock has had enough. He slams the man’s face against the decking one more time, hard, and John lets go as the body underneath him goes completely limp. John stands up and replaces his weapon behind his back. Without saying anything, he follows Sherlock down the ladder, through their room, and down the staircase.

They enter the lobby moving fast on bare feet, both of them wearing nothing except cloaks. Mabel is nowhere to be seen. The captain points John in the direction of the front door and heads towards the counter. As he walks around the counter, John hears him suck in his breath, startled. John rushes to his side and lets Sherlock’s gaze guide his own.

Mable is sitting on the floor with her back to the counter. Her eyes are wide open and staring, dried tears on her cheeks. Her hands are at her throat, though the gesture came too late. A ligature has been wrapped around her neck so tightly that there are thin beads of drying blood around them. John reaches over to the woman and gently closes her eyes. He turns towards his partner who is still standing and staring at the corpse.

“Sherlock.” The captain does not react. John tries again, a little firmer this time. “Sherlock.” He is awarded when the other man finally looks at him. He holds out a hand and pulls the captain to his side. “Come on. Let’s go get some clothes on. You said that you called for help. Let’s be ready to meet them.”

Sherlock just nods and follows John up the staircase.

They hurriedly dress in the native clothes that have been packed into their luggage by the Admiral’s crew, only half-way paying attention to anything. John is still straightening up his brown tunic when there is a voice at their door, requesting entry.

Sherlock lets in the team of three beings, all dressed in IA uniforms. He raises his eyebrows to the team leader and points towards the ladder that is hanging down. They move towards it but are back in record time, informing John and Sherlock that the attacker has bled out on the roof. John feels a little twinge of guilt, but it is quickly replaced by anger when he thinks about the woman downstairs.

The team cuts through the room and they can hear their footsteps on the staircase as Sherlock closes the door behind them. He turns toward the table and pushes a single button on the com-screen as it comes up through the top. Within seconds, the Admiral’s face comes into focus.

“I am sorry to hear about Mable, Sherlock.”

Sherlock doesn’t answer his but John picks up on the slight nod that means he has accepted his brother’s condolences.

“How quickly will your team clean this mess up?”

“It will not take long, captain. They should be out of there within the hour. I am sending a member of my team to take over that position. I am sure you would like to change rooms.”

Sherlock looks over his shoulder at John, silently questioning him, including him in the decision. John thinks for a second and nods back. They need somewhere to reconnoiter once they have spent the day out trawling for information.

“Yes. We will take the suite downstairs opposite the check-in counter.”

“Fine. Please keep me informed.” The com-screen goes dark and slides back into its hiding place. John makes to pick up the luggage but Sherlock stops him.

“They will take care of it for us.” He turns away and leaves the room, John on his heels.


	19. More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops, no sexy times for our interplanetary boys, though I'm hoping the plot is moving forward!

Once they are back on the road, the day seems a bit brighter for them. They know they must return to the comely little hotel, but those hours seem so far away right now. They walk side-by-side quietly, John keeping up with Sherlock’s long strides easily enough. Their boots make crunching noises on the packed dirt of the roadway. John takes a look around and thinks that there isn’t much out this way in the realm of civilization. Juno II is very similar to Earth, save for the dual suns and the almost-constant climate.

As they make their way closer to the little town, they are often passed by other travelers. Several heavily-laden carts pulled by massive, hairy animals that look like a cross between oxen and rhinoceroses pass them, headed in the direction of the bazaar. A spectacularly painted cart rumbles by and John turns his head in time to see a small child sitting on the back bumper of it. The child’s face is humanoid in appearance, except for the rosy-pink hue to his skin and the pinkish color of his hair. His face is dirty but otherwise he appears happy and healthy. He raises a hand in greeting and John returns the gesture.

They enter the main thoroughfare of the little town. It is surrounded by buildings similar in make to the hotel where they are staying: all grey and brown businesses and homes with similar square, flat roofs. John gets the impression that star-gazing is a regular past-time here and inwardly thinks he is going to miss that beautiful sight once they leave.

The captain has stopped in front of a rather nondescript grey building and is pushing through a heavy glass door. He holds it open and John steps in, blinking his eyes slowly against the dramatic change in light. Inside there is a calm coolness. In the back of the building, the sound of a fan that helps move the air around a bit to keep it from getting stale can just be made out. Music plays all around them softly. John picks up the smells of food cooking and turns to ask Sherlock if he’s hungry but the other man has already disappeared whilst he was studying the décor. This place seems peaceful enough and there are only a few diners among the twenty or so little tables set up around the room. John chooses one that allows him to sit with his back to a wall but still gives him the ability to see the doorways and the rest of the dining hall.

A rather humanoid-looking alien comes over to take his order. She is only about five feet tall and could pass for human except for the long, thin, crest on her face that runs from forehead to tip of her nose. It’s been pierced with several gold rings. John has to remember he’s not at home and tries not to stare. Her irises are violet rimmed with gold and for a moment he almost decides to pay her just so she’ll stand next to him and let him look at her for the rest of the day. He’s not really interested in any type of sexual encounter, but he is a visual man so…

A large hand falls to John’s shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie. He blinks and looks up to see Captain Holmes smiling down at him. He flushes guiltily, thankful when Sherlock places their order in a kind manner and does not cause a scene.

“She’s certainly beautiful, Ambassador.” The captain stares at him with a smirk on his lips. John nods in agreement.

“Yeah, she is. Though I can say there’s probably nothing else for me now, dammit. You have ruined me, Sherlock.” John shoots back at him with a pretend glare.

“Good. I don’t like to share.” Sherlock’s voice is calm but there is no mistaking the serious intent behind his words. John nods to show that he understands.

“The feeling is mutual, I am sure.” He’s not talking about the desire for another being, no; he is talking about being exclusive. What Sherlock hears is: _You are now my only one, but I expect the same in return_. As an answer, the captain just captures his eyes in a sea-green tractor beam and holds him there. They understand each other perfectly.

After breakfast, they find themselves in yet another building. Sherlock is leaning against the counter, one booted foot propped up on the rail; John is seated on a tall stool trying hard not to throttle the human from whom they are attempting to glean information. The captain has moved into the man’s personal bubble and is all but jumping up onto the counter and shaking the poor bastard by his shoulders. The man is actually trembling in fear but even John can see that he is lying through his crooked teeth.

“Captain Holmes, sir, I don’t know.” The man, Jenkins, is looking everywhere around his shop but into Sherlock’s eyes.

“Jenkins, you are a terrible liar.” Jenkins finally turns his face up to the captain’s and John swears the man is going to piss down his own leg. The trembling has increased tenfold. Sherlock’s hands are actually reaching out towards Jenkins’ shoulders when John lays one hand on Sherlock’s arm. The captain breaks the intense stare and looks at John. John gives him a twisted little smile. Sherlock raises his eyebrows but then steps back from the counter, waving his hand in a “alright, your turn” manner.

John calmly gets down off of the stool. He walks to the opposite end of the counter and opens the little gate on the end. He closes the little gate. He then proceeds to walk up as close to Jenkins as he can without putting a hand on the little man. Jenkins’ trembling has increased another notch and the little man is actually sweating profusely.

In the calmest but most serious voice he can muster, John gazes right into Jenkins’ eyes. “Mr. Jenkins, do not play my friend or myself as fools.” Jenkins is trapped and he knows it. Fleetingly, John considers that the shopkeeper may have a weapon on his person, but by the fear he is showing it’s not probable.

“Mr. Jenkins,” John drawls out the _mister_ , keeping the emphasis on the title rather than the sir name. “Beings have _died_. Apparently you have some information for us as to who is behind this little shindig.” John’s voice has actually dropped an octave. He has no idea that the captain’s heart is pounding in his chest and that he is frozen in place watching the interchange.

“Won’t you tell us, please, _Mister_ Jenkins?” John has carefully reached for his weapon and his now casually holding it in one hand, its muzzle pointing down at the floor. Jenkins’ eyes have now gone from John’s face to the weapon and he’s pretty much made up his mind that he better start talking, like _now_ or he’s not going to make it home to the wife and kids.

“Mister….mister…ah…” Jenkins knows Captain Holmes very well, but not this new person; who is turning out to be a right little tyrant, even with the weapon pointed at the floor. Jenkins takes a deep breath. “It’s not me. I swear, Caa…Ca…Captain.”

Sherlock nods at the terrified man but doesn’t say anything. John’s got this one in the bag.

“Look over here, Jenkins.” John rolls his fingers a little bit, causing his nails to clink against the metal of the weapon. Jenkins head snaps back to him. “You can call me Ambassador, Jenkins.”

“Yes, well then. Ambassador. Yes. It’s not me. I know, I know!” He holds up his hands as if he’s caught the narrowing of Sherlock’s eyes.

“You know _what_ Jenkins?” says Sherlock in that deep voice that can either make you come or scamper away in fear.

John keeps his eyes on Jenkins. It’s obvious that the man is terrified.

“Ambassador. Alright. You have to understand that there is never just one being helping the…the…” Jenkins eyes have gone wide and he seems to be looking out the window over John’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Jenkins is talking a mile-a-minute. John can barely keep up. “I never helped them come through the Gate, Captain, I swear. They wanted me to help because…because of all that stuff from _before_ , you know, come on. I know you know. But then they said they would kill my _babies_ , my precious babies, and that was a long time ago, I’m an honest shopkeeper now, I can’t get involved in all that…that…stuff anymore. Come on _you know._ ”

The sound of glass shattering breaks the spell. Jenkins turns his head towards Sherlock in the last second before a projectile buries itself in his forehead. His eyes flutter for a second and the little man slumps to the floor. It’s like slow motion at that point. John spins towards the window as the captain hunkers down behind the counter. John holds his weapon pointed towards the shattered glass. Whoever or whatever is gone. Apparently, their only target was the hapless Jenkins.

Sherlock stands up slowly and their eyes meet over the counter. They have been on this planet for one whole day and the body count seems to be rapidly multiplying. This case seems to be getting more serious with each passing moment.


	20. Stress

Back at their room, John has casually draped himself over an armchair whilst Sherlock paces back and forth. He has not spoken yet, but John can tell the man is agitated. He has so many questions that he would like to ask the captain, but he does not want to derail the other man’s train of thought. John takes a long drink from the tall glass of translucent blue liquid sitting on the table by his side. He watches the captain pace a few more times and then sees the futility of the action.

“Sherlock, have a drink.” Naturally, the captain just turns his head slightly and glares. John merely holds up his glass and nods his head in mock salute.

“You have questions.” Sherlock is holding his hands behind his back as he paces.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

John considers the phrasing of his question. He wants as much information as possible, but he still feels like he should not pry where he isn’t wanted.

“What did that poor bastard mean when he said _you know_?”

The captain is only slightly taken aback. Out of the whole scenario, John caught _that_?

“Yes, I caught that. I can see what you are thinking, Sherlock. I’ve been around long enough to know that life is neither black nor white. It was obvious from the time we walked in that he was known to you. So please explain.” John’s glass makes a tiny tinkling sound as he replaces it on the table. He shifts in his chair and rests his palms on the arms, his posture giving an air of utmost and unlimited patience.

Sherlock takes his cue and starts to speak without stopping his manic actions.  “As you well have seen, Jenkins and I go way back. He was really good at smuggling at one time; time was that he was caught by some pretty shifty individuals. They made it clear that he didn’t belong in their Quadrant, so he was basically in exile here; though he stopped the smuggling.”

“What was he smuggling?”

“All sorts of goods, some of them live.” The captain has ceased pacing and was now standing with both hands in his hair, eyes closed, head tilted towards the open frame wooden ceiling.

“Slaves?”

“At times, John, at times.”

“What else?”

Sherlock reaches into his pocket and holds up the little jewel. He holds it up so that it catches the rays of the dying light. John understands.

“So he traded that for…what? his freedom?”

“Yes.” Sherlock wearily drops into the chair next to John’s. He completely ignores his own glass but reaches over and carefully wraps his long fingers around John’s. He brings it to his mouth and drinks it all down in one swallow. He holds the glass in one hand in his lap, his eyes billions of light years away.

John reaches over and lays a hand on Sherlock’s arm. The captain’s focus changes from wherever he had been to a searing gaze that lands on John like a sun storm. The tension is immediate and hot. Within seconds they are both naked, Sherlock pinned underneath John on the massive four-poster bed. It’s not long before their energy burns out and they drop into a deep sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dual suns’ morning light cuts through the window and blasts itself into John’s face. He squeezes his eyes shut further and valiantly attempts to ignore both his full bladder and the siren’s call of the daylight. He pulls the covers up over his face and huffs. An answering huff from the heavy weight across his back causes him to chuckle. One of Sherlock’s hands wraps around his ribcage and the palm is smoothed over his chest. He chuckles again.

Sherlock feels John’s chuckle vibrate through his own naked chest. He firmly rubs the sternum under his hand and is rewarded with another soft chuckle. He makes a soft sound in his own throat and for once considers just telling his brother to fuck off and give the case to someone else. But he knows he would never do that, because it would be like admitting defeat.

…and that, boys and girls, was never going to happen.

The captain proceeds to run his hand down John’s chest and across his abdomen. John groans and rolls over. Sherlock pushes himself up on his arms just enough to allow the other man to do so. He reaches out with his lips and intentionally misses John’s mouth, instead going for the side of his neck. John closes his eyes and almost growls. Sherlock tries on a chuckle of his own and suddenly the feeling of a full bladder is replaced with an exceedingly interested erection.

Sherlock continues his rather mouthy exploration of John’s neck while John wraps his arms around his lover and strokes his back. There is just a calm peace about them this morning, even with all that has happened. The captain finally pushes himself up a little and dives in John’s mouth. John arches his hips slightly, their erections casually rubbing past each other, and groans. He’s got a handful of one each right and left butt cheek and things seem to be on a pleasant march to a repeat of last night.

Until the com-screen flares to life.

“Captain, Ambassador, there’s been a breach to the _Neo-Tethys._ We need you home _now._ ” It’s Professor Royburn and he’s not looking towards the bed, but rather his eyes are distracted. The captain licks at John’s mouth one more time and bounds off the bed to stand in front of the com-screen.

“Captain.” Allen says calmly, though his face betrays the stress he’s feeling at the moment, there is also an amused hint in his expression upon seeing his captain completely in the buff.

Allen clears his throat and tries again. As the two men speak, John gathers up his clothes and hastily pulls them on. He’s pulling on the last boot when the com-screen falls silent and the captain turns away to get himself dressed. As he pulls on his uniform, he explains what is happening aboard their ship to John. Apparently, just after Jenkins was shot yesterday, his crew apprehended and took into custody an assassin of some sort. The man had dropped aboard the ship via a shuttle craft that pulled away from the side of the _Neo-Tethys_ quickly. The assassin was now in the brig, being held until the captain issued other orders. He had been armed to the teeth and three of his weapons were thought to have had the same poison on them that was used by the Telom who had attempted to kill John.

“We will be leaving in five, John. Grab only what you need, the rest can be sent up later.”

There’s a slight knock on the door. The captain is just adjusting his belt and John is bent over grabbing his weapon from underneath the bed where it had dropped last night. Their eyes meet and the captain moves to open the door. John holds the weapon steady, covering Sherlock.

The captain slowly opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, readers. It's been a busy weekend and this is the first chance I've had to get back to it. There will be more coming up soon, I promise!


	21. Treachery

A rather short alien wearing a brown tunic and brown leggings looks up at the captain with huge eyes. He is barefoot. In his hands he is holding a book with a ragged cover. Some runic language that John does not recognize covers the tome. John shifts his feet a little but keeps his arms steady and his eyes on their visitor. He watches as the captain steps back and gestures the small being into the room.

Sherlock sits down in one of the chairs and the alien approaches him cautiously, holding out the book like an offering. He carefully takes it in one of his hands, his long fingers curling around the spine. The alien makes a grunting noise in the back of its—no, his, thinks John—throat and bows his head. The captain is carefully turning pages in the tome and John finally decides it safe to tuck his weapon back away.

“John, this is Glataar. He is the religious leader of a Burskin band of refugees.” John nods at the alien without taking his eyes off of him. He tries to remember what he knows about Burskins, but it really isn’t much. He knows that they were originally from Juno III, a temperate planet whose sky Sherlock likes to replicate in the public access room. They tend toward the “primitive” and “barbaric” end of the social spectrum and barely have a language other than rough grunts, snorts, and hand gestures. When some of their people joined the Interplanetary Alliance it caused a serious civil war on their home world. The race was now divided into two factions, one like Glataar, where they attempted to live in this new world and have dealings with other races; the other remained on Juno III, only occasionally allowing visitors from other species. Obviously the captain had been there at least once, but John had never enjoyed that opportunity.

John walks up and places his hands on the chair Sherlock is currently occupying. The captain makes a short grunt and a soft snort and holds out a hand, palm downward, towards Glataar. The alien opens one of his own hands and places it palm up underneath Sherlock’s. The golden glow that John is finally growing accustomed to seeing is spreading from their palms, but it is faint. If the room was much brighter, it would be virtually unnoticeable. Glataar closes his eyes and nods his head again, a couple of times. He holds a hand out to Sherlock who returns the ancient book to him. He holds out a hand, palm up, towards John and John copies the greeting in the same way, _sans_ golden light. A warm tingling spreads from his palm and up his arm, as if he had just plunged his arm into warm bath water. Glataar smiles at him, showing a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth. He grunts, bows his head and proceeds to back up towards the door. John steps around the captain’s chair and opens it for him. With one last smile and nod, the Burskin finally turns and moves out towards the lobby.

“Sherlock, what was that about?” John enquires as he closes the door.

The captain stands and goes right back to gathering his things in preparation of heading back to his ship. “Did you feel anything?”

“Yes, I did. I felt warmth that spread from my hand up my arm. Why? That doesn’t answer my question?”

Sherlock takes John’s arm and leads him out of their room, not quite pushing him towards the front entryway. John could see the man’s mind starting to turn, moving forward to their next destination. As he pushes, he explains.

“Glataar gave us his blessing. The Burskins are generally considered to be a primitive race, but they do have natural healers and some powers that we are only starting to understand. I do not know how he found out about what was happening on the _Neo-Tethys_ , but he came to offer us a protective ward.”

“Okay. Is that what…”

John didn’t get to complete his sentence before the captain had pushed the button on the silver bracelet on his arm. The white light spread around them and within seconds their feet slammed on the deck of the ship.

John reeled for a moment and allowed his vision to clear. As the white light faded, he could make out Professor Royburn and Maria waiting calmly for them. They quickly filled the captain in on what was happening and proceeded to enter the lift together.

Maria gave John a once-over with her eyes. “Ambassador.” She said quietly, giving him a little nod that seemed to be approving.

The lift moved smoothly down the shaft to the bottom deck of the _Neo-Tethys_. The doors slid open and Sherlock and John stepped out together side-by-side, Maria and Allen behind them. There was silence except for the sound of four-pairs of boot heels against the tiled floor. On each side there were jail cells with metal bars. John thought _cages_ for want of a better word. At the end of the row, a very tall humanoid is standing with his arms crossed, his eyes downcast and his chin on his chest. He is wearing a very long, light-tan colored trench coat. On his head, a hat with a wide brim throws most of his face into shadow. As they approach, John can tell even from this distance that the being has at last a whole head of height on the captain. There is a buzzing tension down here in the brig and he wants to cut through it. They stop in front of the cell and the being raises his head slowly and peers at them with copper-colored eyes and lips twisted in a half-smile. Fleetingly, John considers the words _he’s not human_ before he’s  hit with something hard in the chest and crashes to the floor.

o-o-o-o-o-o

When John comes to his first thought is of the captain. He blinks furiously, trying to clear his gray vision and make the world stop spinning. He finally gets himself under control and sits up cautiously. Sherlock is stretched out in a heap on the floor next to him and after a moment of making sure the other man is breathing, John accepts that they have been locked into the same cell they were just standing in front of. He can’t quite remember exactly what happens, but his chest is sore. He absent-mindedly rubs the pectoral with one hand and tries to stand up.

Bad idea as the world just starts spinning again. He drops back down into a crouch next to Sherlock, holding onto him for support. John has no idea how long he was out nor exactly what happened to them. His ears pick up footsteps coming down the corridor so he quickly closes his eyes and relaxes his breathing, trying to glean any information possible.

A man’s voice: “Leave them down here. We can drop them off when we get to the Time Gate.”

A woman’s voice: “Do you know if he killed the Ambassador?”

“Let’s hope so, Maria. Between the two of them, he could be the most trouble. He has no real allegiances.”

There is a short bark of high-pitched derisive laughter. “He seems to be pledging his allegiance to the captain’s cock a lot lately.”

Footsteps move between the cells and stop. John can tell that they are checking on their prisoners. He focuses on holding his breath and being as still as possible, allowing the captain’s prone body to block him partially from view. They are still talking, but John is concentrating so hard on pretending to be out cold that he misses the conversation until they turn away again.

“There isn’t going to be any more problems, will there, Allen?”

“No, there won’t be. If we can keep them hidden long enough we can make our switch before the Admiral begins to wonder where _baby brother_ has run off to this time.” A nasty little snicker as they walk out of range.

John opens his eyes again and puts a hand on Sherlock’s chest, just making sure he’s breathing. Sherlock rolls over and John can’t help but think his expression is one that he would gladly kill other beings for causing.

With one look, John can tell that the captain is considering that they have been tricked by his own crew. He can see the utter devastation that the disloyalty has caused. He isn’t sure how to react to the situation and waits for Sherlock to lead him. The captain merely scoots up closer to John’s torso and places his head against John’s heart. The gesture touches him deeply and he wraps both arms around the other man, hopefully giving a little comfort. While he holds Sherlock, he looks around the cell and wonders just how they are going to get out of here.


	22. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys need a little break.

“Sherlock, we need a plan.” John is a bit concerned for his partner. The captain has been lying on his back on the cold floor for several hours not moving or saying _anything_. John partially understands his deep disappointment with his crew, but they cannot just sit here and wait for their captors to decide what to do with them. His weapon has been confiscated and he can see that Sherlock is no longer wearing the silver bracelet given to him by Professor Royburn.

Sherlock’s complete lack of reaction was starting to bother John, just a tad. For someone who always seemed to be so damned _dynamic_ , it just wasn’t right. He wasn’t sure whether he should give the other man a hard slap across the face, kiss him, fuck him right there on the floor, hug him or shout and make him stand up.

John sat with his back against the wall, facing the entrance of their cell. It was noticeably colder down here in the belly of the starship. He huddled into himself, trying to retain a little more body heat. His uniform was certainly not meant for camping out on cold floors. He finally could not take anymore and stood up, moving easily into pacing Sherlock-style. He paced back and forth in the front of the cell, circling around the captain’s prone body in the floor.

“John.”

John refuses to stop pacing and he doesn’t answer. Maybe if he keeps it up long enough, he would annoy Sherlock into some sort of reaction. He took a few more footsteps.

“John, that’s distracting.”

John still paces with a military precision.

Or perhaps like one of the original Bobbies walking his beat, swinging a lantern. A measured tread, sole of boot, then heel…

“John!” This time Sherlock’s voice is a bit louder and his name was stretched out as the captain bounded from a completely flat position on the floor to holding John’s head in his hands. Sherlock is squeezing quite tightly, and it’s a bit uncomfortable but at least it is a reaction. John freezes in the captain’s hands, eyes open wide, waiting for whatever happens next.

“I can get us out of here.” With that Sherlock actually closes his eyes and pulls John into him, pressing his lips down and capturing John’s mouth. He kisses passionately with a promise behind it. They slowly slide to the floor until they are both on their knees, kneeling, with their arms around one another, mouths busy. The captain has both hands on John’s buttocks, pulling him into his body as close as he will go. John’s hands are around Sherlock’s face, a reserve position from the one they were in seconds before. It’s getting pretty intense and they seem to come to an agreement between the both of them and pull away slightly.

“How?” It’s getting to the point even after such a short time of knowing each other that they can keep up with one another’s thought, even after such pleasant snogging.

“The jewel, John, I still have it.” The captain reaches into his trouser pocket and holds it up for John to see. The little thing really is beautiful. John reaches out towards it as if to touch it with his fingertips. Sherlock pulls his hand back slightly then seems to reconsider and holds it out for John to pick up. John holds it as if it would break just from his touch. At first it seems to be completely transparent, but as he looks deeper into it, he can see swirling colors that remind him of the Time Gate. He watches for a moment and then hands it back to Sherlock who carefully stows it into a hidden pocket.

“It’s exactly the same. Its very essence comes from the Time Gate. Think of it as if it were a key.”

“Does that mean we can use it _instead_ of the portal?”

“In similar ways, John, we may be able to, but if it we push it too far it’s energy will fall flat and frankly, so will we.” Sherlock explains as he stands up to begin his own round of pacing.

“How soon can we get out of here?”

“If my calculations are correct, in about two hours; if they are going to the Time Gate like I believe they are, and the ship maintained its orbit after we left, we should be able to jump before they come in to get us.”

John considers his words carefully. “Alright. I am assuming, then, that Royburn cannot trace us with the jewel like he can the bracelet…wait a minute. Did you know this was going to happen? Your own crew, Sherlock? How could you…”

The captain holds up a hand to silence John. “I did not _know_ John. I observed a few things that had happened between several of my crew members quite some time ago. I will be honest with you and tell you that I hoped I was wrong. That’s why I needed to procure the jewel. On the off chance that things would come to this.” He held his arms away from himself with his hands open wide to make a point that the cell in the brig was “this.” He does not sound angry, but John can clearly see from the captain’s stern, narrowed eyes that when all this was over there was going to be hell to pay.

They moved simultaneously together again, John’s arms slipping comfortably about Sherlock’s slim waist, the captain’s arm around John’s shoulders. Sherlock leans back against the wall, dragging John with him. It’s probably completely the worst idea he’s ever had, but John goes with his instinct to pull Sherlock’s head down towards his own and kiss him thoroughly. The captain responds with eager swipes of his own tongue. Their bodies respond and John presses himself against the captain. Sherlock reaches down and just as cool-as-you-please pushes the button on John’s belt. His trousers fall down on his hips, but stay up enough as to not display his bare ass.

The captain loosely wraps his hand around John’s growing erection, sliding his fingers slowly down the shaft. John pushes himself into Sherlock’s hand and pulls out of the kiss in order to look down. The sight of those long fingers around his now throbbing cock almost cause him to lose it right there.

Sherlock leans his face against John’s ear as he strokes his partner and whispers “Tell me what you want.”

John’s mind is comfortably blank. He can’t seem to string more than two words together coherently, so he just mumbles “you” He has to close his eyes against the sensory overload. It feels so good. He leans his forehead against Sherlock’s chest and just gives into the pleasure of being stroked off slowly. The captain fully intends on letting John have an orgasm, though he slows his hand down just a bit, wanting the pleasure to last just a little longer. John growls and groans in the back of his throat as Sherlock teases him with long, hard strokes and soft, slow ones.

Finally, John can’t take it anymore. He’s right on the cusp of his orgasm. The captain strokes him faster and evenly, feeling the tightness of John’s testicles each time his hand gets to the bottom of his partner’s shaft. The captain continues to stroke John even through his orgasm, making John’s nerves jump around and spout lewd poetry. John slumps against Sherlock as the captain casually tugs his trousers back up over his hips. As always, they are both thankful for the material their uniforms are made of as its only seconds before John is dry.

He stirs against Sherlock, moving his own hand to the captain’s belt, only to find that the button is already undone and his cock is straining beautifully against the loose waistband. He lowers Sherlock’s trousers as he settles himself on his knees. He reaches one hand up to gently tug at the captain’s testicles and takes an experimental swipe at them with his tongue. Sherlock hisses above him so John tries it again before taking his partner’s cock in his mouth. He sucks hard and then changes the rhythm, sometimes pulling off altogether in order to stroke the captain’s cock with his hand, teasing Sherlock the way he was doing earlier.

When Sherlock finally closes his eyes and tilts his head up against the wall, John knows he’s there. He rolls the captain’s testicles closer to his body and his mouth is soon completely filled. He pulls off of Sherlock’s cock and swallows with a loud slurping noise. Sherlock’s eyes fly open and he stares down at his lover like he’s some new species of alien. John just grins up at him and gives him a peck on the lips. The captain runs his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting a salty tang that isn’t entirely unpleasant. They both sink to the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with their backs against the wall, calmly waiting until they can break free and enjoying the post-orgasmic relaxation.

John will one day look back and consider it the calm before the storm.


	23. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this ends badly, you know how I feel. They do not need to speak it aloud. It is understood between them.

John dozes against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock’s eyes are closed, though his mind is a flurry of activity behind them. He has to time their escape just at the right moment or they might end up floating away in space somewhere or otherwise too far off the mark to do any good. He calmly listens to his ship’s engines, trying to decipher just where they may be in relation to the Time Gate. The muscles in his legs tense up and release again, waiting. Captain Holmes hates waiting, hates the uselessness of it all. Whenever he even tries to consider that Maria betrayed him he can feel the breath pushed from his lungs as if he had been punched in the gut. He wants to believe that the rest of the crew are only going along with this scheme because they are either completely unaware of the truth of what was happening or maybe they have been coerced in some fashion.

The only other alternative—that they are in on the deception—is unthinkable.

Sherlock hears the steady thrumming of the engines and understands that they are beginning their slow orbit around the planet that houses the portal. He opens his eyes and gives John a little nudge and waits to stand until he’s focused completely on Sherlock. They stand together and Sherlock holds out his hands. John takes them and they press the jewel between their palms as discussed earlier. The jewel feels warm in John’s hand and he has only seven seconds to contemplate that feeling before they are completely surrounded by white light.

Being transported by the jewel is a softer, more buoyant feeling than being transported by Professor Royburn’s machine. It’s almost like drifting and John fully aware of every single sound around them. When the captain tightens his grip for a second on John’s hands and then releases them, John is instantly ready to fight. As soon as his feet touch the floor he is in a defensive stance in front of Sherlock.

But it is all for naught. Allen and Maria have not yet entered the Time Gate’s chamber. They are alone. Weaponless but alone, which changes the game plan considerably. John finally manages to shake off some of his tension and walks around to the bottom step of the portal. Sherlock soon joins him and they stand looking into the doorway.

“We need weapons.” Sherlock contemplates the portal.

“Aye, Captain.” John acquiesces with a slight tilt of his chin and a weak smirk.

“Are you ready?” Sherlock turns his head.

“Yes.” John looks him straight in the eye. There is no time for hesitation. Sherlock grasps his upper arm and they step through the portal together.

It’s quicker this time, much quicker than before, and they are through the portal and standing in the lobby. Sherlock releases John’s arm and leads him to yet another door that he gently pushes against with three fingers. The silver metal gives easily and it swings inward on silent hinges. They step inside and Sherlock closes the door with a click. He reaches out one hand and a dim light bursts into life above their heads. They are surrounded by gray rock and walls that are slightly damp. Some of them even have a light carpet of moss growing on them. There are no windows and no other doors. It’s almost as if the Time Gate has a closet.

John looks around and has to take a deep breath. He and the captain are standing inside the armory that should belong to an entire sovereign nation. There are weapons-covered shelves lining the walls. There are massive weapons that look like flame throwers that give way to tiny silver guns from one side of the room to the other and many in-between. There are wicked knives and swords and even something that looks to John like an ancient mace. There are enough weapons here to stock a gigantic army. He winds his way to a shelf and chooses a little weapon like the one he had taken away when they were thrown into the cell. He also lifts a light-weight but nasty-looking blade and slides it back into its sheath. He hooks the sheath to his belt and ties the lanyard around his upper thigh.

The captain has also equipped himself, except he has forgone the shooting weapon for a pair of long swords across his back. He stands in the center of the room rolling his shoulders, his head tilted towards the floor and his eyes closed. John can tell from the other side of the armory that the captain is calming his mind and preparing for battle. He knows the feeling well. He will never tell anyone, but he is actually a little excited to get to see Sherlock on form. The practice spars are one thing, but this will be real.

John waits calmly for the captain to make a move. He surprises John just a little when instead of moving towards the door that leads back into the lobby, he gets into John’s personal space and ducks down for a quick kiss. It’s brief, but heated. They step away from each other, their eyes keeping contact. _If this ends badly, you know how I feel_. They do not need to speak it aloud. It is understood between them.

Sherlock reaches into his pocket and fumbles for a bit before pulling out a long e-cig. He lights it with a finger to the tip and then offers one to John wordlessly. John generally prefers a pipe with real tobacco when he does bend to the occasion and smoke, but that is rare indeed. He accepts the e-cig and copies the captain’s motions to light it. They lean against the wall, Sherlock slightly hunched to keep the sword blades from scratching on the grey rock. John closes his eyes and takes a drag, feeling the chemically-altered nicotine flow to his brain.

After a time, the captain moves away from the wall, adjusting the blades across his back. He reaches down with both hands as if checking to be sure that he will be able to grip the handles quickly when the time comes. John studies him. Sherlock’s expression has changed. It’s guarded, closed off. He lifts his head towards John and smiles a crooked smile, just his lips changing position without teeth showing. Just because he can and because he knows his partner is studying him intently, he grasps the handles of both swords and brings them in a graceful arch in front of his body as he steps forward towards John. To his credit, John doesn’t give any ground.

“Impressive, Captain.” His words are the first that have been spoken the whole time they have been in the armory.

Sherlock tilts his head, closes his eyes again and brings the swords back up to their resting position without ever taking his eyes from John’s. He will never be able to explain that the tight feeling in his guts is excitement and not fear. John takes note of the icy stare and tense muscles. He’s been here before. He sets his jaw and nods to Sherlock as the signal they agreed upon. He follows the captain back through the lobby and into the portal. As before, they step through together, this time with their fingers entwined into a single fist. It’s a show of strength and they can only hope that it will be enough.


	24. Mind-numbing

The Captain and the Ambassador step through the coalescing colors of the portal at the same time. Maria looks up from the computer she is working on, her fingers flying across the invisible keyboard. From their point of view, John can see that she isn’t even surprised when they appear like phantoms from within the portal. She stops tapping at the board as they walk down the steps and meets them face-to-face at the bottom. As always, she stays just out of Sherlock’s reach though she does give him the once-over, seeming to take note of his cold stare.

“Has that much changed between us, Captain? That you can look at me as if I am gravel to crush beneath your feet?” She asks, staring up into his face.

The captain looks as if he really wants to just go off on the woman. He holds his tongue; the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Why?”

Now she looks taken aback. “What did you ask me?” Maria’s eyes are hooded, her expression frigid, her voice sharp as crystal shards.

Sherlock steps closer towards her. “Why?” His deep voice is firm and absolutely cold.

“Because, you bastard, you ruined everything. Everything!” Maria’s voice has risen and is now shrill. Sherlock grabs her by the shoulders as if he fully intends on shaking the answers out of her. She attempts to step back away from him but he is faster and stronger. His hands grip her shoulders tightly. John surveys the room from just behind them, taking in every detail.

“Talk.” Sherlock commands his subordinate.

Maria looks up into the captain’s face and is stunned by what she sees. She knows he never loved her in the way she would have desired. She knows he would have burned her up alive from her own inability to control him. This mask of anger and hatred that she is staring at, for a moment she regrets all of her decisions that have lead her to this point. What has she done?

There is no time for this, not now. The others will be here any moment, maybe she can stall for time. She rises up on her toes and makes as if to kiss him on the mouth. He pulls back and shoves her. Maria hits the ground hard and scoots back on her hands and feet until her back is against the wall. Only then does she make eye contact with him again.

The captain is deep into his anger at her betrayal now. He knows that he could kill her with a single swipe of one of the swords across his back. He needs to hear her words, needs it like a dying man needs to know he’s not alone. His senses are all heightened and he can pick out every sound around them, from Maria’s breathing to the steady thrum of John’s heartbeat. He shakes his head enough to quiet the sound of his own blood rushing to his ears and stares down at the woman on the floor.

Maria holds her hands up in an attempt to protect herself. It’s useless, she knows, but there is no stopping it. The killer look on Sherlock’s face would be enough to scare even the most battle-hardened veteran. “I…” her words falter. How can she tell him this? How can she betray the trust he gave her, keeping her by his side for this many years? She finally sighs and knows that she is beaten.

“Captain, there is so much more happening that even you understand. Your idiot brother seems to think that someone was attempting to sabotage the Time Gate. Nothing could be further from the truth.” She stares down at the floor. It is actually physically hurting her to look into his face. She can’t tell him that it’s not sabotage that the deaths were not accidental, but she’s got to. Maybe. Her mind is spinning like a top. She can feel her own attraction to him and at the same time the repulsion he feels for her at this moment. She puts both hands up to her head and closes her eyes.

What Maria does not understand is the pull that the Time Gate is having on her. The captain does, however, and pushes her a little further. “Tell me.” He grinds out between his teeth.

“Captain. The deaths were not accidents. They got in the way of…” her eyes are wide open now, something having just fallen into place for herself that she had not seen before. She starts again. “They were in the way of the beings taking over the Time Gate. You cannot stop them now. They are coming in hard and they will win _this time_.”

Sherlock tears his eyes away from the woman on the floor and meets John’s gaze. _They will win this time_. That could only mean one thing.

“Travelers.” John says quietly. He thinks back to the tall being standing in the cell in the brig. His copper-colored eyes and twisted snarl could only have belonged to one of them. How did he miss it? Though this would be John’s first meeting with a living member of the race, he had read and been told enough stories about them that he should have recognized him right off. “I didn’t realize, Captain…”

Sherlock moves his head slightly, gaining John’s focus back on him. Maria has slumped down against the wall, almost as if she’s asleep. Sherlock knows it isn’t sleep, but something that the portal is doing to her mind. John walks up to her and reaches out a hand towards her shoulder. Sherlock grabs his arm and pulls it back. He shakes his head in the negative. “John, remember your first experience with the portal?”

“Yes.”

“Now you know why it was better that we went together. Maria has nothing to help combat the effects of it pulling on her, even from this distance. She’s trapped in her mind.”

John gasps just a little and steps away from her. It’s against his very nature to not try and help, though he completely understands. It is a little sad, though, that she’s been left to fend for herself.

“Sherlock, can we fight them?”

“If we get some backup, we may have a chance.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

The captain jerks his head back towards the portal. John grabs his arm and they head up the three steps at a run.


	25. Prelude

John watches the captain as he questions Glataar. The two of them moved quickly from the lobby back to Juno III and were able to catch up with the Burskin leader not long after walking into the bazaar. Glataar almost seemed to have been expecting them to show up. After he speaks with the captain for a few moments, John lays a hand on his rough shoulder.

“Thank you, sir. Your protective ward saved my life when the Traveler tried to kill me.”

Glataar grasps John’s hand in his own and smiles his crooked smile up at him. He rumbles something guttural in his chest and Sherlock translates.

“He says that he is happy to be of service.” There is another deep grunting sound from the Burskin. “He desires you to understand that though he does not fight due to his calling that he will be sending us reinforcements soon.”

John nods his head, his mind on the battle now. Glataar pats him on the shoulder and then turns away from the men. He re-enters the bazaar and is soon hidden among the throng in the aisles and amongst the wares.

o-o-o-o-o-o

They are walking side-by-side after moving through another doorway from the portal lobby. This is a planet and time that John has not seen yet, but there are things about it that are eerily familiar. It is similar to Earth in that is has cities and real roads, but he has yet to see any type of vehicle that would travel on said roads. The asphalt is cracked in some places and plants have attempted to re-take the land. Sherlock is setting a fast pace, his eyes straight ahead.

As they enter the ruins of what appears to have been a once proud city, the captain slows his pace. Buildings in many states of disrepair surround them. Strange, bird-like animals squawk and then take wing. Everything is grey and black. Here and there a cleaner wall pokes out of the chaos, occasionally even with what seems to be intricate artwork painted on it. Tips of sapphire blue and emerald green painted plant life peek out from behind giant mounds of crumbled foundations and walls.

The road gets narrower as the piles of rubble become less spaced out. At the very end of the road is a tiny ramshackle house. It is just as grey as the rubble strewn around them but looks as if it had once been white washed. The captain moves through the debris as if he is dancing. John is a little slower, plowing through in his wake. It would not do to trip now and twist or break an ankle, not with any medical supplies so far out of reach. Finally, after picking their way through, around, and sometimes over broken pieces of brick and rock, they arrive at the front door. The captain knocks three times and steps back away from it, almost taking John out in the process. He manages to step back out of the way and places both hands against Sherlock’s lower back. For just a second, their eyes meet over his shoulder and the humming tension between them abates a little, almost becoming white noise.

They wait. The sky above them is heavy with more grayness, the clouds heavy and sulky. There is very little breeze, and that is cold. For over an hour they stand outside the dilapidated structure. The captain just looks bored and John uses the time to size up everything around them, which turns out not to be much. More of the bird-like animals caw and squawk overhead and upon closer examination actually look more like lizards with feathered wings than birds. Their snapping beaks are full of tiny spiked teeth. Their bodies are dark green and their wings are black and gray. Just as John decides that he does not appreciate them much his attention is immediately drawn towards the little house.

A creaking sound announces the opening of the door. A short Odal dressed in a black uniform of sorts stands in the doorway with one tentacle held out in front of him. The captain takes this as a welcome and steps across the threshold. John attempts to follow him but the Odal holds up a sucker and John stops. The captain turns back towards them and holds up the jewel. The Odal’s eyes widen and he drops the tentacle barring John’s passage. The alien makes a strange little sucking sound, perhaps an apology, as John moves to follow Sherlock down a narrow hallway.

Passing a reasonably well-equipped kitchen, they move into a large room that seems to be dominated by the color green. There is a long dark-green sofa on one wall and two yellow-green armchairs off to the side. Pale emerald curtains hang over the single window. A green and white fire burns in the grate of a grey stone fireplace. The Odal waves a tentacle at them and the captain nods as the alien leaves the room.

“Have a seat, John, we could be here for a while.” Sherlock gestures towards the furniture.

John takes a look around and decides that the sofa may be comfortable but not conductive to moving from a seated position quickly if necessary, so he settles into one of the armchairs. His movement kicks up some dust and he sneezes.

“Bless You.”

“Thank you, Captain.” They smile a little at each other and the tension is back, sizzling between them. Sherlock draws closer to his partner and leans down, their lips touching but just barely. John is reaching up to grasp the back of Sherlock’s neck when the sound of a throat clearing reminds them of where they are, and why. They are both suddenly sober and turn towards the figure.

“Captain, I cannot help you.” A soft voice comes from a medium-sized human. He steps farther into the room as the captain settles himself into the chair next to John. Sherlock narrows his eyes and stares at the man.

“Jardo, why?”

“Captain, there are rumors that several people who have helped you recently have wound up on the business end of the death stick.” Jardo is standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his legs shoulder width apart. John considers that this man seems braced for a fight. Odd, that.

“I need some backup, Jardo. You have experience with the Travelers, you know their weaknesses.”

“No. Captain. No more. I have given you all the information I have available to me. I apologize, old friend, but it is no longer worth the risk.”

Jardo shakes his head of shaggy black hair. He points towards the doorway. “I will leave first and then I must request you go from this place. We have had enough destruction. I am just beginning to rebuild my city and my family. _I cannot help you._ ” Jardo spins on his heels and he is gone within seconds. The sound of a slamming door echoes through the otherwise empty house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there will be more action! Thank you to everyone who is still with me thus far, I appreciate you all so much!


	26. Battle

 John and Sherlock are standing side-by-side in the portal’s lobby. They are watching a small contingent of Burskin warriors as they come through one of the doors surrounding the room. These beings are all dressed in plain brown tunics, both the males and the females, carry small bow-like weapons, and are all barefoot. Some have even gone so far as to touch their faces with what could be war paint: complicated symbols drawn with black ink around their lips, noses, cheeks and eyes. They may not be the most intimidating beings, but they are all they’ve got to go on with. As they file in, they all look up to the captain as if they are just waiting on his signal. Their eyes take note of the crossed swords on his back and the determination on his face. They have all been blessed with wards by their leader, so they are ready to fight. John considers for a moment everywhere they had been today and the fact that this was the entire backup that they could assemble. Beings are terrified of being singled out for helping the captain. John understands, though he also understands loyalty even in stressful times; he is just a tad disappointed.

From here on out the plan is simple. Keep the Traveler (or is it Travelers? Are there more of them by now?) from taking over the Time Gate, no matter the cost. If that race actually manages to gain control of the portal, the likelihood of them all coming out of this skirmish alive is nil.

A hush falls over the small crowd as Sherlock reaches up and unsheathes both swords simultaneously. They make an interesting _shush_ sound and then a metallic _ting_ as he crosses them in front of his body. John turns to the Burskins and nods. Several nod back, most just look straight ahead as they all move forward together.

o-o-o-o-o-o

To any observer, it all happens so quickly that it’s like a bloody nightmare where none of the details are readily apparent. To John, everything happened in slow motion. He stepped out of the portal at Sherlock’s side to stand looking down into a crowd of Travelers. There were so many that one individual could not be told from the others. As they passed through to the top step, many of the aliens looked up at them and their rather small party. A few of them even gave them nasty twisted smiles.

The captain moves down the three steps as water cascading down a rock face. For an instant, John returns to the PA room and the wonderful waterfall in the jungle. Sense slams back into him and he watches as the captain moves from the bottom step into a sea of alien bodies, his swords twisting in his wrists. The blades first flash silver and then red above his head, beside him, behind; the blades are _everywhere_. They return to the front of his body and again over his shoulders as he pushes through. Bodies fall at his feet, the metal blades glinting in the swirling light from the Time Gate. Sherlock rolls his neck and swings his blades in high arcs. John pushes himself through the crowd, taking out enemies as he follows in his partners’ footsteps. He has only glimpses of the captain as he appears to be dancing through the bodies and the gore, heading towards the control panel.

John’s mind fragments a little as he is torn between astonishment at Sherlock’s deadly dance and protecting himself as the enemy surges forward. He is face-to-face with yet another tall, copper-eyed alien and he cuts him down quickly. The body drops to the floor and John steps over it, only taking note of the neat hole in his forehead to make sure the alien is really down for good. He aims at one of the Travelers standing to the left of the captain but the gun simply clicks. Out of ammunition, he is certainly not out of the battle. In the instant that it takes him to pull the blade strapped to his thigh out of its sheath, he is dimly aware of the muted sounds of arrows and the screams of the dying. The Burskins’ weapons do not possess the stopping power of neither John’s weapons nor Sherlock’s blades, but they are slowing the Travelers down enough for the two of them to get to the aliens. He knows the losses that the Burskins will suffer, though he will always be thankful for their help.

The captain has made it to the control panel for the Time Gate. His swords flash as John rushes through the crowd, slashing, stabbing, and generally making good use of his strong arms. He finally reaches Sherlock and steps in front of the other man, turning his back toward him in order to fight off the enemy aliens that have surged forward with them. John is growing weary and has noticed that for every Traveler that falls to the floor dead there are two more stepping out of the portal. Sweat pours down his face. He can hear Sherlock’s voice mumbling over the noise filling the room. John knows that the captain is trying desperately to shut down the portal.

John cuts down another Traveler. Two more take his place. He parries and slashes, taking them down. _Hurry Sherlock_. A few of the aliens towards the back of the crowd fall when Burskin arrows pierce their skulls. But its not enough, not nearly enough. Once again, John is fighting for both of their lives. He doesn’t notice when Sherlock re-joined him, though he is slammed back into his senses when the twin blades cut in front of him to take out a Traveler beside the one he has just sliced through.

John is starting to tire, then there is a tiny fraction of a second when he looks up and catches the look in the captain’s eyes. They are determined, green irises blazing with an inner fire. At that moment, John knows he has solved the problem. He takes a breath, nods and then gets his second wind. Side-by-side they fight back across the room, stepping over bodies as they hit the floor. Suddenly, John is pulled up short and slammed to the concrete. He hears his short sword clatter to the floor then takes in the sight of one of the Travelers pulling on his leg and smirking, the alien’s pointed teeth looking like the gates of hell. John is unaware of screaming, though he can feel his own legs thrashing uselessly against the strength of the alien intent on ending his life.


	27. Loyalty

Jared stands in the control room beside Tony’s kiosk. Tony’s finger-like tentacles are flying over the keyboard in a vain attempt to override the given orders and move the _Neo-Tethys_ out of its current orbit. Jared is terrified of the Time Gate, the Travelers, and absolutely out of his mind worrying about where the Captain and the Ambassador are. He has only a tiny inkling of what has been happening since Maria announced to all of them that the ship was under new control. Everyone seemed more reluctant than normal to speak to each other, only Tony and he maintained their previous friendship. The captain had been gone too long this time; anytime he ever visited the Time Gate before, he always returned within a day, two at the maximum. Now it had been closer to five Earth days, over 120 hours.

Now this—whatever _this_ was---has upset the balance between crew and commanders. Jared tries to look as normal as possible, but he is feeling the pressure. If anyone catches them, they could be considered to be traitors or worse. He isn’t even sure anymore. He keeps his back towards Tony and watches everyone in the control room. Neither Maria nor the Professor is here at the moment. He really doesn’t want to know where they are; the Professor’s switchover really rocked his world, it was almost too much to comprehend. In all the time that Jared has known the captain and crew of the _Neo-Tethys_ , he would never have believed any of them capable of such disloyalty. He feels it like a knife to the heart.

Tony makes an odd noise behind him and he steps out of the Odal’s way. They share a look between them and Jared moves towards the lift while Tony crosses the room to another kiosk, seemingly oblivious as to Jared. It is a ruse designed to keep them from being watched too closely.

Jared takes the lift back to his own quarters. He quickly scans his room and packs some necessary supplies, grabbing several things, including a silver ring off of his desk. He looks up to the flashing of the time and takes the time to scan once more. It is possible that he may never be back, but as long as Captain Holmes gets his ship back, it will all be worth his and Tony’s efforts. He scrambles and pulls his things together, shoving them into a messenger bag that hasn’t been used in a while. The brown leather of it is worn smooth around the long handle. As he heads back to the lift, his fingers absently caress it and he considers the implications if they get caught.

Well, they simply won’t get caught.

There’s nothing for it anyway. Jared remembers the first time he met the captain. The tall man was incredibly intimidating but there was something in those green eyes that made Jared need to stand beside him. Of course, he has since learned that once simply doesn’t _stand_ beside Captain Holmes. Those who are loyal to him are always willing to fight for him, fight with him, and be better in his presence than you were before. Even though he was so young, the captain was willing to give him a chance.

Jared was born on Earth and had spent the first twelve years of his life growing up in a normal manner. His parents had been farmers, raising some of the new vegetables and fruits that had been introduced to the planet after the founding of the Time Gate. Like so many other children his age, stories of the portal peppered his life. First it was thought to be a myth, and then the myth confirmed. For some reason, even his teachers didn’t like to talk about the thing. It was only one night when he picked up his Da at the saloon that he heard whispers of the truth. Even at twelve years old, Jared had been clever. He knew when to just listen. So he sat there that night, beside his dad, and he listened. A tall man had stood up and addressed the entire room. He was deep in his cups, but Jared could tell that everything he said was the truth.

The tall man was looking for crew members interested in science and exploration. He mentioned the Time Gate in passing, but then he would circle back to it, often saying that it was not what everyone believed it to be. Jared was mesmerized. He started to fantasize about what it would be like to live and work on a starship. He thought about research and how well he did in school in the various sciences he had studied: Biology, Alien Biology, Chemistry, and Geology. He was always a level ahead of the other kids his age, and as such didn’t always have many friends. Aboard an explorer ship however? Certainly there would be more people like him!

Jared left the saloon that night, his hand on his father’s arm, gently guiding the man home. Within six months, his family had lost their farm. His father drunk himself into a stupor one night and never came home. Jared was almost thirteen years old when he caught up with the captain again. Captain Holmes had looked over the skinny boy and told him that his mother would continue to drink herself into her grave and that he was sorry for the loss of the family livelihood. Jared was enthralled. He knew that his mother would probably never know that he was gone and it hurt. He could no longer live her life but had to move forward with his own.

He remembers very clearly telling the captain that he wanted to explore the galaxy. He rattled off every fact that he had so obsessively learned in the last few months whilst trying not to see his mother bury her grief in the bottle. The captain patted the stool next to him at the bar and Jared hopped up onto it. The captain drained the glass he was holding and set it down on the polished wood. He turned toward the boy and held him still with only his eyes.

“You are a little young.” Jared’s spine turned to dust with the deep vibrations of those five words. He felt the blood rush to his face, heard it pound in his ears. This is what he wanted so badly! Only the mere idea of being able to get away and have a purpose had kept him going since his father had disappeared!

“I can do it.” Jared refused to beg. He proudly kept any trace of a whine out of his voice.

The captain studied him closely. He tapped his fingers on the bar and another drink appeared in front of him. It was a clear liquid and Jared thought for a second that it might not be alcohol at all. The captain downed half of it in one gulp and held the glass out to Jared. Jared did not even hesitate, he took the glass in his own hand (he still doesn’t like to think about the way his little hand was actually shaking) and gulped it down. To his surprise, it wasn’t the sweetness of wine or the burn of whiskey, but the coolness of water that hit the back of his throat.

The captain stood up and ran his hands through his curly hair. He turned his back to Jared and paced the length of the almost-empty establishment. Jared studied him intently, attempting to learn everything he could from the man dressed in the black trousers and tall boots. He remembers clearly that the captain was wearing a plain white mock turtleneck shirt in the style of the community around them. He would never know the significance of it, because he would never see it again.

Of course, none of that mattered when the captain returned to face the boy again. He held out of one of his big hands and Jared grasped it in his small tan one.

“On the ship, you refer to me as _Captain Holmes_ or simply _Captain_. You will have a tutor and you will complete any tasks that I assign to you. You will be given ample time to question me about our explorations, but I will answer them on my own time. I will keep records of everything you do so that you may move on to bigger and greater things when you feel the time has come. You will most likely have menial tasks assigned to you in the beginning. If at any time I doubt that you are performing above expectations, I will bring you back and you can continue where you left off. I will only teach those who truly desire to learn. When you are of age, you will be properly inducted into the Interplanetary Alliance and assigned to my ship, if you still desire to do so.”

Jared stared up into the captain’s eyes. He remembers very clearly the little twinkle of light there that made him trust the man instantly. He could not speak.

“This is the part where you say _Aye Captain._ ” A tiny lifting of the corners of his mouth took ten years off of his face and for a few seconds it felt to Jared like some kind of schoolyard conspiracy. Jared fought the desire to giggle. Here was a man who would treat him like an equal. In that instant, he knew that he would always strive to be so.

Jared could feel the red blush covering his face. He nodded vigorously and managed to squeak out “Aye Captain!” before the captain was striding across the room towards the exit. Jared hopped off of his stool and followed him without another second’s thought.

From that day onward, Jared’s life had changed for the better. He had been assigned to Tony and their friendship had sparked into life. Tony not only continued Jared’s studies from Earth, but had taught him about the other alien races, several languages, and even prepared him for the helmsmen position he was currently occupying. The day of his Induction had been a proud one, standing in his new uniform complete with shiny boots and insignia on his chest. He remembers thinking of his parents for a short time, wishing that they could see him, but then Captain Holmes had taken his hand and shook it before wrapping him into a hug. Jared promised himself that he would stand beside his captain until the end of time. He had done so much more for the boy than just given him a chance to learn; he had given him a place where he fit in.

He considers the day that John, the newest Ambassador, entered the ship. He remembers the day that they all stood around and cheered when John not only bested the captain. Though he is young, he understands that sometimes being alone is not enough. He remembers feeling the lightness in his own heart in the fraction of time he took him to understand that there was something more between his captain and the new man on board. He was pleased and a little jealous, but after observing them together, he is very happy for the captain. And now they were in trouble.

Jared pulls himself out of his memories and thinks about the task ahead.

Loyalty to a captain also means loyalty to a ship. The ship has been taken over by hostiles (of course, he has no proof for that yet, but he and Tony are working on it, which is why he’s in a lift on his way to the top deck) and since he is loyal to the captain, it is a very simple equation for him to solve: the captain needs to be found and returned to his ship. Apparently, he and Tony are the only crew members with this ability, so they will do it.

The little chime dings and Jared moves quickly out onto the deck. Within seconds, Tony appears and follows the young man. Tony goes over to the control panel and makes quick work of readying the clear shield to drop in the instant that they leave the deck.

They stand at the rail and Jared reaches into his bag, pulling out an older version of the silver bracelet that the Professor had given to the captain. It is much smaller, almost the size of a man’s ring. He holds it out to Tony and the Odal puts two of his tentacles into the tiny silver band and slowly begins to pull it apart. The metal gleams in the lights from the deck and emits tiny sparks as it stretches against his tentacles. He stretches it as far as it will go and holds it back out to Jared. Jared carefully threads his hand through it until it rests rather snugly on his wrist.

Jared gives a slight nod and Tony reaches out to grasp his upper arm with a tentacle. The sucker on the bottom of it pulls slightly on the hair of Jared’s arm but Jared adapts quickly. Without taking time to consider anything else, he pushes the button on the bracelet with his other hand. A bright white light encircles them and then they are falling over the rail.


	28. Countdown

Jared and Tony appear right in the middle of a hellacious chaos. Bodies and blood are everywhere. There are Travelers stepping out of the portal. Three Burskins are toe-to-toe with three more of the Travelers, all fighting in close quarters with only their hands. As per their agreement, Tony searches for the captain and Jared tries to find John. John is down not fifteen paces from where they landed; the long hand of one of the Travelers wrapped around his leg. Jared notes that John seems unconscious. Tony makes a spluttering noise and waves his tentacles in the direction of their captain. Jared looks up towards the tall man and then does a double-take. Captain Holmes has always cut a striking figure, but this…this is something else.

Sherlock stands with his legs spread shoulder width apart. His sapphire blue shirt has been cut to ribbons. It hangs off of his body, giving a glimpse of his muscular chest, abdomen and solid arms. Sweat and blood mingles and is pouring down his face as he swings both arms in perfect arcs, his swords slicing through both of the Travelers who are attempting to fight him. Their bodies fall to the ground in wordless slumps. The captain raises his head and takes a deep breath, catching sight of his two crewmembers that have just appeared. He raises his swords again as another alien reaches out to swipe out at him with a knife. Somehow he manages to point his chin in the direction of the portal without taking his eyes away from his enemies.

Behind Jared, Tony makes another noise that Jared’s brain quickly translates. He nods to the Odal and heads toward John while Tony moves as quickly as he can on tentacles towards the control panel. If he doesn’t shut the portal down, the Travelers will just keep coming and eventually they will be outnumbered. Jared does not comprehend everything that’s happening here, but he is determined to help out to the best of his abilities for as long as possible, it’s the least he can do.

Jared rushes towards where John is lying on his back, his leg being clutched in the long fingers of what he is sure of is a dead alien. He pulls his weapon out from behind his back and levels it at the thin, wraithlike Traveler just in case. He holds the weapon steady in one hand while he gently reaches down to John’s neck to feel for a pulse. All of this is happening very, very quickly. The Ambassador is alive, probably just knocked out from hitting the ground. The Traveler, however, is very much dead, a single sword slice to the back of his head felled him quickly.

Jared moves to his feet to stand with his back towards John. He dispatches two of the aliens and turns towards a third when a strange sound almost stops the fighting. There is a low hum and then they are all pitched into darkness. All of the lights on the portal have gone black. Suddenly, there is a whirring in the air and the room blazes with white light. Every living being in the room stops cold and looks to the Time Gate.

For the first time in its existence, the portal has closed. Instead of an archway filled with swirling colors, there is nothing but blackness. The captain notices that the almost-constant low-level pull the device had on him is nonexistent. He scans the room quickly and takes note of Tony pulling away from the control panel. He takes advantage of the lull and strikes out for the remainder of the Travelers within his reach, cutting a macabre swathe through them towards where John still lies upon the floor. The Travelers beyond his blades are soon killed by Jared’s weapon. Tony takes one out in the back of the room, strangling the tall alien with his tentacles. He gives a long, low guttural cry as the body hits the floor with a solid thud.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Captain Holmes is most astounded with the arrival of the two members of his crew. Facing two Travelers intent on killing him at the moment he really does not have time to stop and analyze what is happening, but later there will be plenty of it, thanks to Jared and Tony.  When the pull from the portal has disappeared from the back of his mind, all he can do is complete the task that he started before John fell.

The next thing he is conscious of is kneeling on the floor with John in his arms. John’s eyes are fluttering as he is coming back. Jared stands behind the captain with one hand on the older man’s shoulder. Tony is whisking around the room giving orders to the Admiral’s cleanup crew concerning the disposal of the bodies of the two alien races. The Burskins have been laid against the wall along one side of the room, the majority of the Travelers on the opposite. The Burskin survivors are nowhere in sight.

Admiral Holmes draws closer to his brother. The look on his face is a mix of pride and pain. He is proud because Sherlock has managed to do the one thing that even his own crews had been unable: shut down the portal. Pain because he can see what this skirmish has cost them in terms of allies. No, not _them_ , he corrects himself. _Him_. The Admiral claims no allies. He moves to stand next to his brother, on the opposite side of the helmsman. He gingerly touches Sherlock’s other shoulder just as John’s eyes open. The Admiral is fully aware that the only thing John sees at this point is Sherlock and vice versa. They are a tiny island of peace in the center of a violent storm that they have only seen the tip of.

He can only hope that his brother understands when he says quietly:

“You did well, Captain.”

The Admiral turns on his heel and strides out of the room, his e-book appearing in his palm as he gets back to the cleanup and rescue efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter. Unfortunately, I sprained my ankle pretty badly on Monday and I'm supposed to be keeping it propped up. I don't (yet) own a laptop, so I have to do my writing in short spurts. Thank you all for still being here!


	29. Conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkness ahead. You have been warned.

“Goddammit!” Professor Royburn slams both fists onto the kiosk closest to him. He hauls back and punches the com-screen before it can disappear; the glass shatters and when he pulls his hand to his chest it is liberally covered with blood. His face is almost as red; a V-shaped vein twitches on his forehead. Other than the Professor, the control room is silent. Maria delivered the bad news to him via com-screen, probably to keep him from lashing out at her. The bitch is such a fool. He will punish her if and when he decides. She lost her power to make decisions when she failed him the first time.

None of his plans were going the way he envisioned them.

Heaviest on his mind was the utter failure of the Telom to murder John Watson in the beginning. Maria played her part well but still managed to screw it up; passing the being the knife as she entered his room. He had not been aboard the ship yet, so he will place all the blame for that fuck up squarely on her shoulders. How the Admiral managed to find the _one man who could spoil everything_ he will never know. But damned if he was going to let some idiot ex-soldier put pause to what he wanted to do. It was time to get the portal back under the control of someone who actually understood her moods and needs.

So many of his plans have simply disintegrated, and for that someone is going to pay. He is so sick of the games between the Admiral and the Captain; all these wasted years! _Fools_. He thinks. _They have no idea of the power of the Gate_. So they went and turned the damn thing _off_! He growls and punches at the air, aggravating his wounded hand, causing the blood to run even faster. It’s no matter. He reaches up with the cleaner hand and wipes the sweat from his forehead that is streaming down his face. He pointedly ignores the scarlet drips down the front of his pristine lab coat.

Thanks to the Admiral’s constant meddling, he’s never been able to get close enough to Sherlock to kill him one-on-one. Oh! How that would _feel_! Grinding his heels into the face of the man who never had to earn his position would be something he would relish for the rest of his days.

No, he has had to rely on fucking flunkies to do the work for him. He has worked for more than twenty years to not only perfect the science behind the Time Gate, but also had to take out everyone else who said it should only be used for _peace_. He actually grins to himself when he thinks about the dumbass still living—as if being a vegetable with missing parts could be considered “alive”—and knows he’s no threat. He snorts loudly and finally notices the blood on his coat and rips it off, throwing it to the floor.

Ha! Allen’s mouth droops in a comically evil sneer, his bushy eyebrows raise. He still has everything within his power; he can still turn this cock-up around. Both the Admiral and the Captain and the goddamn Ambassador are _still_ on the planet with the portal. He walks back over to the kiosk with the smoking, broken com-screen. He slams a fist onto the keyboard and barks out his orders.

“All non-essential personnel are to leave the ship immediately. Use the pods. Take your things, you are no longer necessary. Maria Manosa you are to report to the control room _immediately_.” His voice takes on an icy edge even over the intercom that he is sure will not be ignored. None of these sorry ingrates of the captain’s crew are cut out to work with the likes of him. It’s time to get this ship completely under his control. He pulls an e-cig out of his pocket and lights it quickly, snarling like an angry bulldog as he places it between his lips. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

The chime for the lift dings. A calmly composed Maria steps out and into the room. She stops and picks up the discarded coat, noting the blood on the front of it. Her exotic eyes take in the scene before her: broken com-screen, congealing blood on the Professor’s hand. Apparently, he didn’t take the news well.

She just opens her mouth to ask him if he needs a medical kit when he is standing in front of her, the uninjured hand wrapped around her throat. For an older man, he moves fast and his grip is strong but she doesn’t even attempt to pry his fingers loose. She knows better. She has been spying for and handling his orders for so long that his anger cannot touch her where it’s important. She considers him calmly, he will never actually kill her, she’s too important to his plans. He wants the captain out of the way and she’s the easiest way to get to him. She never even thinks about the Ambassador or the Admiral, never gives either of them a second thought.

Maria is starting to see stars before the Professor finally lets go. She reaches up to her neck, coughing and gasping as she steps back away from him—out of his reach. Allen is breathing heavily and staring her down. Maria does not lower her eyes, but stares right back at him. He seems to get his breath under control and grabs her by the shoulders, steering her back towards the lift. He pushes her against the back wall when the doors open, shoving her hard enough that her head bounces. He leans into her, capturing her lips with his teeth. Once the coppery tang hits his tongue, he pushes into her mouth and feels her arms come around his waist. When the are on the correct floor, he continues to push her backwards to the room that he wants to use.

When they are in front of the captain’s door, he puts both hands on Maria’s shoulders and only half-way forces her to her knees. She is sure as she unzips his fly quickly and takes his cock out. She leans in closely and swallows as much as she can take. He has both hands on her head and pushes into her with his hips. He feels his orgasm coming on too strongly so he pulls her back up to her feet, once again smashing their mouths together. She is willing and pliable. Over her shoulder, he slams the door key into the slot and pulls away from her long enough to get his trousers off.

Maria hesitates only for a second; it is no good for Allen to see her weaknesses. He can’t know that she had ever been in this room in a similar embrace with the captain. He undresses her without stopping, dropping her uniform to the floor as he pushes her towards the captain’s bed. Once she is completely stripped, he guides her to her back and looms above her, biting her breasts. He rears his head back to look at his handy work and decides its not enough. His next bites cause blood to well to the surface of her skin on her neck and both breasts. Her breath is coming hot and fast into his ears.

Allen slides down and pulls Maria’s legs to his shoulders. He enters her fast and rough. She squirms a little underneath him but gives in. He fucks her hard and fast. Her hands are wrapped around his neck, attempting to pull him closer. Her mouth is slightly open and her eyes are closed. The orgasm he stopped a little while ago is building at the base of his spine. He reaches down to her, placing his fingers around her neck. He pumps his hips harder, grinding their pelvis bones together. He tightens his fingers and her eyes flutter open. They have played this game before. When he comes he tightens them even farther and her eyes widen. Maria tries to buck him off of her, but he’s keeping all of his weight on her body and there is nowhere to go. She tries to kick with her legs, but her flailing is useless.

He stays half-erect inside of her as she finally attempts her last breath. He pulls out slowly, enjoying the process. It’s too bad, though, that his favorite toy will be no more. She has been nothing if not loyal since he first pressed her for information about Captain Holmes. He picks up his discarded trousers and pulls them on, admiring Maria’s naked body one more time. He moves to her side and closes her eyes. It’s the only kindness he feels she deserves. He leaves the captain’s room and wonders if he will ever get to see the present he left for him.


	30. I Want My Ship Back

**Chapter 30: I Want My Ship Back**

John wakes up and notes that he is flat on his back. He blinks his eyes a couple of times and the ceiling swims into focus. Every muscle in his body suddenly goes tense when the memories crash over him of the Time Gate and the Travelers and oh, god, Sherlock with those swords, and being grabbed and crashing to the floor…his head spins and he closes his eyes again. He comes back to himself and only then does he notice the pressure on his abdomen. He attempts to sit up and see what’s going on but his head reminds him that it is entirely possible he’s got a concussion, so he gives it up as a bad job and uses his hands instead. When his fingers encounter a messy mop of curls, his lips quiver slightly but he suppresses the urge to make some sort of undignified noise.

Captain Holmes is partially stretched out next to him on the narrow bed that John has decided must be in a hospital. He hopes he’s back on Earth, though with the Holmes brothers, there is no way to know at this juncture. The rest of the tall man is draped over John’s torso and seems to be asleep. He runs his hands through the hair at his fingertips, encounter tangles that he pulls gently apart. He knows that the grit he is feeling is possibly dried blood, but he’s so glad to be alive to feel _anything_ that that detail is pointless to worry with. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head back against the pillow as the body under his hands begins to stir.

“John!” Sherlock is suddenly wide awake and gazing into John’s eyes. He takes note of the other man’s mismatched pupils and correctly ascertains a concussion. John is focused clearly on him, however, so he leans in close and presses his lips to John’s while laying one hand on his chest, reassured by the strength of the heartbeat thrumming against his fingertips. John wraps his arms around the captain’s shoulders and drags him closer. John deepens their kiss and tries to show his lover how glad he is that they both made it through. After a time, they pull apart and Sherlock moves his head to lie against John’s chest, still mostly covering his body with his own. John rests one hand on his shoulder and the other hand gently cups the cheek that Sherlock is not pressing against his chest.

“It’s not alright yet, but it will be.” The captain seems unable to say comforting words that would be akin to an outright lie.

“Okay.”John isn’t quite sure what to do with that information, so he switches the subject. “I have to tell you Sherlock: that was one of the most amazing sights of my entire life.” John says slowly, a little concern coloring his voice. It is entirely possible that the captain will have no desire to discuss his fighting methods.

The captain considers his answer as he enjoys feeling the rumble of John’s voice against his face. He unashamedly presses against the muscular torso underneath him. “Are you commenting on my method of attack, John?”

John chuckles, but it doesn’t last due to the miniature explosions behind his eyes. “Nay, Captain, I think your method of _attack_ is above reproach. Are you really completely unaware of how you looked today?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer, but he does shrug his shoulders a bit. John still remembers very clearly being mesmerized with the glint of light from the portal on silver blades. He can see the enemies falling in the face of those whirling, skimming blades and the crystal clear look on the captain’s face as he cut them down. It was not a look of a man locked in a moral dilemma, more the look of a man with a job to do and the knowledge that he was the one to do it. It’s only when he opens his eyes into the intense scrutiny of sea-green ones that he even realizes he had closed them. Sherlock’s face is open and question, a bit of soul-searing fear just on the edges. John reaches down and cups his chin, effectively trapping the captain’s face so that their eyes remain locked.

“It does not bother you that I show no emotion whilst cutting down living beings?”

“Sherlock, they were our enemies. The Travelers have only ever come through the gate with a single purpose: to destroy.”

They don’t take their eyes off of each other, even when Sherlock nods that he understands. Before they can finish this conversation, however, the Admiral strides into the room. He scans the lovers, seems to answer some unknown question in his own mind and then holds out a clean shirt towards his little brother. When the captain finally pulls away from him, John sees the sapphire blue material has been torn to shreds. Several long gashes mark his torso. John grasps his shoulder, intent on taking a closer look, but in his weakened condition he can no more pull the other man with any force that he could stand up.

“You can check me over later. Some of them are deep, but they have been cleaned.” Sherlock’s gaze is just as intense as it was moments ago. Sherlock takes his time buttoning up the fresh shirt, leaving it hanging loose from his trousers. John watches him carefully for any sign of pain. Must be his alien blood, he thinks, because any one else would flinch even at the softest touch. Sherlock actually _winks_ at him and turns back to his brother.

“Admiral, what’s going on with my ship?” The captain enquires, almost growling at his sibling.

“We have reason to believe that the Professor has, how do you say? Taken it over. The majority of the crew has been let off, though there are just a few spare hands kept aboard. Before you ask, Maria is still aboard the ship. My intelligence says that her involvement in everything is voluntary.”

The captain doesn’t say anything, though John can see him turn his gaze inward. It’s a little unsettling, but not the first time he’s experienced it. He clears his throat. “Admiral, what about Jared and Tony?”

“They are both just down the corridor. Neither of them are too badly hurt, though they are both rather shaken.” The Admiral offers John his hand when he sees the injured man struggling to sit up. John grasps his hand, thankful for the chance to be in a less weak position. The captain returns from the bathroom running a comb through his hair, at least to the best of his ability. His eyes narrow when he sees his brother stepping away from his lover, their hands parting in midair; the Admiral keeps his own eyes locked on John, but answers his brother’s irritated grumble.

“Sherlock, don’t growl at me. I was merely helping him to sit up.” The Admiral actually cracks a smile.

The captain disregards it all and acts like he is stone cold deaf. John rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. Sitting up may have been a bit premature. His stomach does a back flip and the world spins and he hears very clearly Sherlock talking to the Admiral with heat in his voice:

“I want my ship back.”

John has no doubt that Sherlock has all the means necessary at his disposal to do just that when he passes out cold, his chin dropping to his chest. 


	31. Lost and Found

The next time John comes to, he is alone. His head is throbbing but the pain is just a quiet murmur now instead of the flashing-lights-behind-his-eyes-pain from several hours ago. He stretches his legs a little and reaches his hands as far above his head as he can. There are no IVs or any other devices hooked up to him, so he’s pretty much free to move about as he wishes. He carefully climbs out of the bed and heads towards the loo for a much needed piss and wash.

John steps out of the shower stall slowly, gingerly testing his weight on each bare foot. He reaches up to grab a white robe off the back of the door. His uniform is not in sight; he hopes at least the trousers and boots will be returned, they are some of the most comfortable and well-fitting clothing he’s ever worn. He looks about the small room as he moves back towards the bunk. There isn’t much to see, just plain cream-colored walls and a pair of matching chairs next to the bed. Still a little unsteady, he reaches out a hand and grasps the back of one of the chairs, supporting himself; it rocks just slightly on its little wooden wheels and makes a little scuffing sound against the tile floor.

In an instant, the door to his room is flung open and the captain is grasping both of John’s arms, almost pulling him off of his feet.

“Sherlock, I’m fine. It’s all fine; the chair just moved a little when…” John attempted to push his partner back; he failed epically.

The captain finished his sentence for him. “Yes, when you walked by and felt a little unsteady.” He reached a long finger out and gently touched John’s wet hair. “You took a shower by yourself. You have a concussion, why didn’t you…”

It was John’s turn to complete the statement. “Call you for help? Come off it, Sherlock, I’ve had fifty head injuries if I’ve had one. I’m not a child.” He tried to frown at the taller man as he was literally tucked back into the bed.

“I am aware of the fact that you are not a child, John. You are injured and you need help.” Sherlock gave him a grin and John swallowed hard at the evil little twinkle in the sea-green eyes. He valiantly fought the shudder that threatened his spinal column. He was torn between wanting to grab those insane curls and twist his fingers into them, pulling the captain closer…and laugh at this heretofore unknown protective streak inherent in his partner.

He laughed, just a little. John curled his fingers against the hair on Sherlock’s temples and did manage to reel him in for a short kiss. The sound of a throat clearing behind them almost didn’t stop the heat from building, though they finally did pull away from each other in a rather leisurely fashion. Sherlock’s grin was almost predatory and John could imagine that he looked much the same way.

Jared actually took a step back when the two men turned to look at him, the captain slowly pulling his body slowly away from the ambassador. Sherlock’s eyes were pools of green fire.  He was more than a little embarrassed, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks and he was sure the tips of his ears were blazing. After seeing the captain in true fighting form, he had absolutely no desire to be on his bad side, and he was pretty sure interrupting was seemed like a very _intimate_ moment between the partners would probably be considered a very bad, not so good idea and so he made to turn away from them and leave the room.

John lays his palm on Sherlock’s shoulder and the taller man turns back to his partner. John narrows his eyes just enough to get the point across and Sherlock stands up. He holds his hand out to Jared as John shifts and pushes himself up into a more comfortable position on the bed.

Jared cautiously takes Captain Holmes’ hand and is almost beside himself when his mentor pulls him into a tight one-armed hug. The heat coming off of his lean body is almost too much to bear but Jared isn’t exactly sure of the etiquette here so he just freezes in place like a hare sensing a leopard. Sherlock actually chuckles at the young man’s reaction and spins Jared around so that he may talk to John face-to-face.

John smiles at the helmsman and offers his own hand out to shake Jared’s. With Sherlock’s arm around his shoulders it is hard to move of his own volition, but he does clasp John’s hand tightly in his own. Sherlock finally lets him go and Jared sits down heavily in one of the cream-colored armchairs.

“Jared, I would like to thank you.” Jared had never before noticed how blue John’s eyes were until that moment when they were filled with gratitude.

Jared couldn’t believe it was possible to blush even more than he already had been but there it is. He cannot wipe the goofy smile from his own face. “You should really thank, Tony, Jo..I mean, Ambassador Watson. It was his idea to find you both. No one else knew where we were or what we were doing. I’m sorry we were all the rescue party I could scrape together, I am sure you were expecting more…”

Sherlock cuts him off with a quiet rumble. He is now sitting on the edge of John’s bunk, his long legs draped over the side of the mattress, booted feet toeing at the tile. As always, he looks ready to spring into action at any second. “It was _more_ than was expected, helmsman.”

Jared is seriously taken back by that statement. “Did you not expect your crew to seek you out when you had been gone on a seriously dangerous mission for longer than usual?” Jared is actually trembling, considering the dangerous circumstance that he and Tony had arrived in the midst of.

“Jared.” The young man turns toward John. He takes a deep breath and finds it easy to calm himself when he considers that just a few hours ago this man could have died had they not shown up when they did. “Jared, the captain wasn’t expecting _any_ type of rescue.”

Jared’s mouth shuts with a snap. The mere idea is just preposterous! After everything the captain has done for his crew. Wait. “What’s going on? _Why_ weren’t you expecting a rescue?”

The helmsman eyes move from man to man. The captain is the first to break the silence. Jared already knows what he’s going to say, though he knows he needs to hear it. “It was Maria and the Professor, Jared.”

Jared gasps. “What about the rest of the crew?” Sherlock starts to explain when there is a simple tap on the door. John calls out “come in” and Tony slides through, his huge eyes taking in the situation. He makes a sharp garbled sound in their general direction and Jared nods his head, once again meeting the captain’s eyes. “Tony says that he has located the _Neo-Tethys_.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

They all follow Tony down the corridor. Jared keeps in step beside the Odal and John leans slightly on Sherlock’s arm as they almost-march into a cavernous room that is filled from stem to stern with monitors and kiosks. John truly thought he had been in a hospital on a planet, but it appears that they are on another ship. A clean uniform had appeared for him in the arms of another Odal within seconds of Tony giving them the news. They had been out of the room in five minutes, John clicking his belt around his waist as they moved down the corridor.

“This is my brother’s ship, the I.A. _Proto-Tethys_.” The captain answers John’s unspoken question.

The Admiral himself is seated in a rather comfortable seat dead-center of the room. His crew is busy, with a natural rhythm to their work that John somehow finds relaxing. Admiral Holmes turns his chair to face them as they enter the control room. He gestures up towards several monitors, each showing the _Neo-Tethys_ from a different angle. Their eyes follow the movement. Sherlock’s ship seems to be orbiting a bright orange planet. It appears to be running on low energy as most of the decks are dark.

“The computers are scanning for signs of life, Captain.” Of course, here among his crew, the Admiral is expected to be formal.

“Aye, Admiral.” Sherlock answers without taking his eyes off of his ship. “The Time Gate?”

The Admiral swings his seat back towards the monitors. “Show him.”  Behind him the light clicking sound of fingers on a keyboard can be heard for a second before the portal’s room appears on the center monitor. The device itself is silent and dark, save for a single pale blue light that shines down on the epitaph over the top of the archway. The Admiral’s equipment is excellent, permitting them to clearly read the words.

Captain Holmes takes some dark pride in seeing that the floor and walls around the portal have been scrubbed clean. “How long?” He inquires of the room at large.

“Several hours. Do you need to be shown to your quarters?” The Admiral gestures towards one of his crew members, a very tall and well-built human female wearing a red uniform shirt. She starts to step forward away from her station.

Sherlock shakes his head. “No.” He turns towards his partner. “Would you like a bite to eat before _we_ turn in?” He puts special emphasis on the “we.” The female officer shrugs her shoulders and moves back to her station.

John’s eyes flick over Sherlock’s face. He caught the emphasis as well and he is certainly famished. He nods, “Yes. Sir.” He adds the last word as an afterthought, remembering where he is standing.

Jared and Tony opt to stay with the Admiral, where he will no doubt give them the rundown as to what has been happening since they were picked up and brought aboard.

o-o-o-o-o-o

The captain and the ambassador take their seats at a table in front of the stage. They had a choice between a café-like dining room and this one. John chose this one when he heard the soft strains of an old-fashioned keyboard. The lights are turned down low, giving a close atmosphere. The captain nods to the human waiter after ordering a bottle of his favorite wine. John finds himself actually looking forward to the drink.

He rests his head against the high back of his chair and lets the music relax him. His back is to the stage, though he did notice the three musicians as they entered. The keyboard player is human, the bass player a male Telom that distinctly reminds him of the male child they saw on Juno. It seems like it has been years rather than days.

The captain just sits quietly, regarding his partner. The waiter arrives with the wine and opens it for them, pouring a measure into each glass. John raises his glass toward Sherlock, offering a silent toast to the man as he listens to the few lyrics of the mostly-instrumental piece.

_Just beyond the troubled skyways_

_Young men dream of fire and star shine_

_I’ve been dreaming of my own green world_

_Far across the reach of space—time_

It’s a _very_ old song and the male singer is doing it justice, keeping with the rather smoky and sensual sounds being produced by the keyboardist. He drinks his wine slowly, taking time to enjoy the taste of the clear liquid. When he opens his eyes again and sets his glass on the white linen-covered table, he is met with an equally mesmerizing stare from Sherlock.

“When this is all over, are you going back to Earth?” The captain’s deep voice is quiet though it carries over the music of the next song easily

Actually, John had thought about it, but he had never come to any conclusion. “Originally, that was my intention. Well, before this.” He raises his glass towards Sherlock again. Sherlock nods his understanding, his black curls glossy in the dim light.

“Would you be interested in being part of my crew? I fully intend on getting back to exploring.” He sips from his own glass.

“Aye.” The word is out of his mouth before John takes the time to register the question. He knows this means that they may even be lost out in the far-flung regions of space for the rest of his life. Sherlock is probably in for no longer than it takes to make an exhaustive search to solve the mysteries of the galaxy. It is highly probable that he may never return to this Quadrant—ever. John thinks about never seeing his home planet again. Never seeing the Earth again; truly, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

John finds that the idea does not alarm him. He looks across the table into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen and knows that his future was decided the minute he stepped foot into the control room on the _Neo-Tethys_. Even before that, perhaps, when he made the decision to pull on his IA-issued boots. He nods quietly and reaches out for the hand being offered, casually entwining their fingers. John’s soul happily appreciates the way the lights from the stage are reflected back to from Sherlock’s searing gaze. He is not really leaving “home” behind. He is only following it, and he will do so, for the rest of his days.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John pushes Sherlock backwards until his legs are taken out from underneath him by the edge of the bed. Neither man has spared a second’s glance around their quarters; their eyes are currently only seeing one another. Their kisses are deep and hungry, hands everywhere. John grasps the captain’s buttocks in his hands and pulls the other man as close as he possibly can. They are both already naked and he can feel _everything_ between them. He growls into Sherlock’s mouth the captain stretches his long legs out and then proceeds to wrap them around John’s waist. He can feel every muscle in the strong calves pulling against him. He has already lubed himself up and prepared his lover. Their tension is palpable, almost a living being beside them.

The ambassador pulls away enough to line up with the captain’s opening. He starts to push his cock in slowly, only thinking of not harming the luscious body underneath him when Sherlock flexes his legs and reels him in fast and hard. John moans deeply and snaps his hips. The captain’s mouth tastes like the sweet wine and pudding they had for dessert. John leans down enough to lick at his lips before pushing himself up on both arms, his hips grinding faster against the captain’s fine ass.

He balances on one arm and reaches down to stroke the captain’s straining, leaking erection. He gets in two good strokes and the captain’s back arches underneath him as he comes. John slows his own movement, pulling the captain through his orgasm. Sherlock opens his eyes and licks his lips. It’s enough. John shudders and growls and groans through his own, taking the time to truly enjoy the sensation. He pulls out slowly, reaching down again to kiss his lover thoroughly, not wanting to leave. Sherlock’s arms are around his back, once again pulling him closer, not so much fire now as smoldering coals. John wraps his hands in those miraculous curls , slowly running his fingers over the captain’s tender scalp. The captain pants against John’s neck. Their breathing slows and they slowly succumb to sleep, joyous in the knowledge that their lovemaking is proof of the spark of life.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't recognize those lyrics, they are from the Heavy Metal soundtrack: True Companion, (C) Steely Dan. If you did recognize them, you get extra kudos for being an A+ Sci Fi fan! (Sorry for such a long chapter, I just couldn't stop once I got started this evening.)
> 
> True Companion (C) Steely Dan  
> Crewmen of the True Companion  
> I can see you're tired of action  
> In this everlasting twilight  
> Home is just a sad abstraction
> 
> Just beyond the troubled skyways  
> Young men dream of fire and star-shine  
> I've been dreaming of my own green world  
> Far across the reach of space-time


	32. Closing Time

“She’s close.” Admiral Holmes turns in his chair as John and Sherlock enter the control room. They are dressed for battle, the captain wearing his twin swords. John has strapped on his weapons as well. He is starting to get used to the knife on his hip and is beginning to think of the sleek blade as another hand.

Admiral Holmes’ eyes meet his brother’s and for a split second there is a small crinkling of the corners. John stops himself from bursting into laughter at the sight. It wasn’t that the Admiral had not been supportive of their relationship in the past, but John was pleased to see confirmation on the older man’s face. With a gentle nod, the Admiral turns back to his monitors and their eyes follow his.

The _Neo-Tethys_ is on the screens, giving them a full-on side view of the massive vessel. The captain feels an ache in the region of his chest that he prefers to ignore for the moment. There are so many things to _feel_ about this whole mess that he isn’t even sure where to begin. The fact that Professor Royburn is over there with _his_ ship is probably the tip of the iceberg. He thinks that perhaps he will have a little chat with the Professor before turning him over to the IA for sentencing. He stares at his ship and turns over all the options for taking it back in his mind.

The Admiral pushes a button on the console of his chair. One of the monitors lights up with a screen of white text against a deep purple background. Sherlock reads the screen as rapidly as the text flows across it. It is a scan of his ship and according to the scanner, there is currently only one single life form aboard. He frowns and his eyes narrow when he turns to his brother.

“How can that be?”

“It is possible that he dropped Maria off somewhere, captain. He let the majority of the crew off before he started to orbit the planet, the rest of them a couple of hours ago. There are no longer any safety pods left aboard.”

The captain weighs his options. He moves towards the screen displaying the scanner and runs one hand through his hair. There really is no other choice, no other way to get things back to normal.

John watches his partner weigh their options. They are both aware of their own strengths and weaknesses in battle. Really though, this is only _one man_ , and he doesn’t have the strength of even a few Travelers. He is ready to end this now and start the new journey of his life. Of course, it’s all fine and dandy to be thinking that now, where they are relatively safe, surrounded by the Admiral’s crew. Once they board the _Neo-Tethys_ , however, it could be another story. It’s a story that John is certainly eager to peruse.

This time they have no back-up whatsoever. The Burskins have taken their dead and gone home. Jared and Tony are helping aboard the _Proto-Tethys_ and will be part of any rescue party. Truly, Sherlock has no desire to put either of them back into harm’s way.

The captain snaps out of his musings and moves towards the doors. They _wuff_ open and John joins him. They hear a muffled “Good Luck” from behind them. Sherlock stands much as he did before, with his eyes closed and head tilted towards the floor. The blades slung across his back reflect the light from the ceiling. The only word that John can think of at the moment is _stunning_.

o-o-o-o-o-o

They enter through the brig, quietly and without any fanfare. The white light dies around them and they step down the corridor with purpose. John unsheathes his blade as the captain reaches up and rests his hands on his own weapons. Drawing them would only make it harder for them to get through the corridors. John takes the lead as they prowl through the bowels of the ship.

The last place that the Admiral’s scanner had seen any trace of life had been in the control room, but John doesn’t want to just show up there with weapons drawn. He figures that a silent approach is for the best. With any luck, they can move in and take Allen down before there is any violence.

Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men and all that…

First thing is first; however, the captain requests that they stop by his quarters so he may retrieve a couple of items that he left behind. The captain lays his palm against the door and it refuses to open. He hisses through his teeth and tries again. No luck. John’s patience runs out and he pushes the captain back, yanks the gun from its holster and shoots the door, which helpfully falls towards them with a crash.

Sherlock turns towards John and grins. John shakes his head and follows him into the room, keeping his weapon drawn for cover. The first thing he notices is the smell. The captain moves past him, towards his bunk and then freezes. All the questions he had about where Maria has been are answered. He takes in the body on his bed and turns away. John steps up alongside him and draws his own quick conclusions. He turns away from the body and grips Sherlock’s arm, pulling the other man with him. There is nothing else to be learned here.

The captain feels the loss of someone he thought he trusted. He may never learn the truth now. Why would she betray him? Why had she come to this violent end? It was obvious that she had been strangled and from the way the duvet pooled around her heels, it seemed that she even fought back. Perhaps not at first, however; it is entirely possible that she and the Professor had some sort of liaison prior to her murder. It is sad to see someone who had been by his side for so long come to such an end. He stops for a second in the doorway and closes his eyes. After a few deep breaths, he shakes it off, filing it all away for a later time. Right now, there is something more important to focus on.

Again, John takes the lead and they move towards the lift that will take them up to the control room. As the lift purrs upward, Sherlock finally draws his swords. This time he holds the blades down at his side. He’s feeling much less playful this time and much more angry. Angry for being a fool to believe….

John’s composed face catches his eye and he does not finish that thought. He thinks about Jared and Tony coming to their rescue. Not everyone has been disloyal. Right.

The lift door opens and the two of them surge forward into the room, weapons at the ready. The Professor spins to face them and for a moment there is silence as the three men size each other up.  

Without warning, there is a crack and the captain is jolted off of his feet. John sizes up the situation and makes note of the silver weapon in Allen’s hand. It’s the size of a small handgun but seems to be packing some sort of electricity instead of projectiles. He checks on Sherlock who is already stirring and moves towards the Professor.

“Oh dear Ambassador, I would stand right there if I were you.” Allen smirks at him, his face an unconvincing mask of geniality. “Or would you like a taste?” Allen points the shiny weapon directly at John’s chest. John freezes on the spot and waits for Allen to do something stupid. He draws his gun up to his eye and the two men hold each others’ eyes for a moment. Strangely, John is reminded of the eye-fucking dominance display he and the captain when they met. Inwardly, he gives a little smile, but on the outside his eyes are cold chips of ice.

“Ambassador, I can shoot him again before you even pull the trigger.” The weapon in Allen’s hand is now pointed at Sherlock who is slowly getting back to his feet. Somehow he missed the idea that the Professor may well be armed when he considered all the angles of this procedure.

As he stands, the captain shakes his head. The electricity that ran through his body was not so much _pain_ as it was a feeling of complete surrender; it happened so fast. There has to be a way to disarm Allen. He looks at John and between them flows a single question and answer. Sherlock finally shakes off the muddled feeling and crosses his swords across his chest. John quickly pushes forward towards the Professor, drawing Allen’s focus. Allen enables the weapon and the bolt of electricity surges through him, causing his spine to arch.

Just before John hits the floor, Sherlock is on the Professor with both blades. In an instant, it’s all over. The Professor lies bleeding out in the floor. The captain tosses his blades down and runs to John’s side. He runs both hands over his partner and rolls him over. John’s eyes snap open, asking the questions that his mouth cannot form.

“It’s over.” The captain assures him. He drops to the floor to wait until John can recover. In minutes, the Admiral’s crew is weaving through the control room. Jared and Tony are there beside them, helping them off of the floor.

o-o-o-o-o-o

The Admiral saw almost everything in the altercation between the Professor and the two men sent to retrieve him. “Record that.” He states simply to his helmsman.

“Aye.” The helmsman answers as he follows orders. The Admiral will take the recording to the IA board and his brother and his partner will be cleared. The Professor shot first and he can prove it. He watches his rescue crew board the ship and gives the appropriate responses when they find Maria’s body. He has a pretty tight grasp on just what had been happening between his brother’s assistant and the Professor, though he is stymied as for the reason. He thinks it has something to do with a one-night stand between Maria and her captain, though only time will tell if he is correct.

 

**One Year Later**

John Watson, ex-medic and soldier of the Alien Wars, Ambassador to the IA, and partner to the Captain of the small science vessel _Styx_ , rolls over on the bunk and opens his eyes. Bright light streams in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. He stretches and lazily scratches at his chest. The smell of Earth coffee is heavy in the air. He grabs a light robe from the foot of the bed and goes in search of the wonderful smell.

The sight before him is like the gold at the end of the rainbow. Captain Holmes, lover and partner of Ambassador Watson, stands at the stove in their cabin pouring the wonderful-smelling brew into a pair of blue mugs. His beautiful smile is infectious as he holds a cup out towards John. John accepts it gladly but does not take a sip until he steps into the other man, reaching up with his empty hand and pulling the captain downward in order to kiss him fully on the mouth.

Breakfast is laid out on the wooden table and John sits, then proceeds to tuck in happily. They have been here on the planet Phrygia for almost a week and this is the first day that the weather seems to be in a cooperating mood. John has had all of their gear packed for the entire time, waiting to get out and explore. Across the table, the captain finishes his breakfast and slides the plate back. He pushes his chair back and settles in with an e-cig, resting his boots on the table. John just laughs at him as he finishes his own meal.

There is a light knock on the door. “Enter.” The captain says pointedly. The wooden door swings open to admit a excitedly snorting Tony, a smiling Jared, and a ginger-haired young woman about Jared’s age. They are holding hands and both of them wear small white towels around their necks, sopping up the water dripping from their heads.

“Captain, we have something that you have got to see!” Jared wolfs down a couple slices of veg-bacon and grins up at the two men. The captain regards the young man coolly from behind his boots. “Did you take notes?”

Jared stops for a moment and his smile fades as he is trying to remember where he left his e-book. Binya, the girl standing just behind him, taps him on the shoulder and hands over the little machine. Jared looks completely confused as he stammers. “Sorry, Captain, Sir. I didn’t know I was to have recorded everything. I…I…I have it all here, but really this is something you should see…” He blushes and taps at his e-book with one finger.  

The captain fixes him with a level stare and Jared seems to wither like an unwatered houseplant where he stands. He has to keep the young man on his toes. He can’t be spending _all_ of his time _at play_ and not working.

John decides to let the poor kid down easy and he chuckles. Jared’s head swivels towards the Ambassador and when the ruse dawns on him, he finally shares in the joke. John stands from his seat and moves around behind Sherlock, running his fingers through the captain’s wild locks and then one finger down the nape of his neck, smiling predatorily when the goose bumps appear. “Sherlock, there’s no reason why the kids can’t have as much fun as we have been this week. Besides, we can’t do research when the weather is horrible. There are _much more fun things to be doing_.” By the time John finishes his statement, he is right up against the captain’s ear, whispering.

Now it’s time for the captain’s face to go all over scarlet. His feet drop from the table and his chair slams down on all four legs. Tony and Jared are laughing so hard that their sides are going to split. Binya, the newest member of this small crew, gives a polite smile but is not yet comfortable with them all to share in the jokes. After a short time, they all head outside into the sunshine to discover something new. Jared and Binya take the lead through a thick stand of trees, Tony slides in the middle of the pack and John and Sherlock take rear guard. They are not on alert, however, as this planet is bereft of enemies save for a few animal-like predators the size of small domestic felines. Mostly, they are here to catalog and find uses for the plant life that abounds on this rainy, warm planet.

Jared stops and ushers the captain forward. Binya steps to the other side and together they pull apart some branches so that John and Sherlock can see what lies ahead of them.

They stand on the crest of a hill overlooking a meandering stream. In front of them is a rocky outcrop that juts to the pale blue sky. Some sort of birds fly overhead, making pleasant chirping noises to each other. There is only one sun near Phrygia and its rays are breaking through white clouds. A long waterfall cascades down the outcrop and into a beautiful lake at the bottom. John and Sherlock share a look. They casually put down their equipment and almost run towards the water. Tony and Jared laugh like it’s going out of style. Jared holds out his hand for Binya and they all head back towards the cabins. It’s unlikely they will get any work done today, but it doesn’t matter, because they all have plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! Thank you to each and every person who took the time to read my little story, you are all amazing! This is the absolute longest fiction story I have ever completed and it has been an awesome undertaking. I can't thank you all enough for your interest, you have kept me going. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> Note: I take full blame for any and all my mistakes. Sometimes the editor part of my brain is offline before the writer part! I think I need to organize a union and keep them both the same amount of hours...

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, I love comments, they help so much! Even if there is something here you don't like, don't be afraid to tell me. ***Really, everyone got all the way through this and no one caught that Royburn is an anagram of Norbury?***


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